Shadows Against a Shoji Screen
by cappie
Summary: An epic story of love and loss and redemption set against the backdrop of feudal war. AU. COMPLETE
1. the whisper of spring

Shadows Against the Shoji Screens

Some non-descript figure of the female form bowed low as she artfully poured the clear heated beverage into a small skillfully created ceramic cup. The scent mingled with the existing fragrance of fresh tatami mats, and together the grassy earthiness and the spicy, sweet scent of the Sake made a pleasant combination in the room. 

The woman bowed quickly, her dark hair covering her features, and quickly, almost as soon as she had come, she scuttled away, however gracefully, out of the room closing the adorned shoji screens smoothly. He had watched her lazily as she did this little performance, this ritual—and now had taken up the drink that she had served. Scratching his neck absentmindedly, he listened, as his most trusted advisor began to try to convince him of the matter at hand. Actually, he thought, he couldn't care less about what happened in his abode. He had greater places to be, greater things to accomplish. Whatever his friend, his advisor was saying held no importance to him.  No doubt, it was some new propaganda, which in the end would cause him wealth and followers, but bring him no closer to his goal.

All that mattered in his life, all that had mattered for some time, was this goal, shining and glistening in front of him.  His lust was like forbidden jewel. 

Scowling, he faced the man dressed in an awase of a deep blue and white. 

"—That is to say, Inuyasha-sama, to make an alliance with the Higurashi family would be in our favor. Soon we will be going battle and to have such a weapons manufacture, such as the house, would be a great asset." The man paused to sip his own Sake that wet he throat, and for a time he waited for his lord to respond. Unfortunately, his lord seemed preoccupied as he watched the plum tree outside in the courtyard.  Small tight buds were beginning to appear.

His lord was a man of action, and true, contemplation: yet few knew this fact.  His lord did not grant people his trust easily.  Yet, when trust was gained certain requirements were to be followed. 

"My lord…" he began again.

"It's nearly spring," Inuyasha coughed as he hoisted himself up and walked about the room, his hands carefully put behind his back. "You know what spring means, of course Miroku?"

The advisor paused for a moment, gulped, and answered, "The local flower festival?" Then, thinking of an even better response, "Fertility?"

"No!" his lord barked angrily, "Spring means that soon _he_ will begin attacking from his mountain fortress, and work his way down into the farmlands. If he gets into the farmlands the nobles will be ruined, and because of them, so will I. Rice is like gold, understand, Miroku? If _he _takes the rice, the farmers cannot pay the rent, the nobles will make no money, and I will lose the power my father worked so hard as a youkai to obtain. "

It was always there. The will to beat _him_, the will to prevail. The obsession, the desire…it always clouded his eyes as though an impenetrable fortress around his body was being constructed.

"Yes. If the nobles lose money you will no longer have the means to defeat _him_, and the nobles will change their alliance." He found himself repeating in an almost mechanical voice.  Miroku sipped his Sake again; it was a fine brew, no doubt a gift from their allies in the Yamanashi prefecture. 

Inuyasha anxiously flexed his clays as he murmured to himself, "Do what you please about the house. Whatever benefits us, I am in favor for."

"Is that your word, Inuyasha-sama?" Miroku began, mentally rubbing his hands together. The outcome would be glorious, despite the setback that his preoccupied lord seemed to be overlooking. An alliance meant marriage, this was no doubt, and he was glad that Inuyasha seemed unaware of this fact. His lord had much to contemplate, especially since now spring was nearly upon the countryside, and it was better in this way that Inuyasha was not informed until the last minute of the engagement. Before he could object the wedding it would be upon him, and there would be no escape. If Inuyasha refused, he would be disgraced. It was a well-known fact that his lord was against marriage since the early death of his mother. Hopefully an heir would be produced; at least, this was the goal…along with the possession of weapons. Nevertheless, this was a key move. 

"Yes. It is my word!" the irritable one snarled. "Do you dare question my dignity?"

"Of course not, Inuyasha-sama." Miroku found himself grinning as he looked up at his lifelong friend.  When in such a room as they were in now there were barriers and ranks; and both knew they wanted to escape the shoji screens decorated with pine trees. 

There was a moment of silence, and then, as though the topic of conversation was cast aside, his lord dusted off the silks that he was dressed in and said, "Come, Miroku, let us have a match of Go. This winter snow has dulled my tactic. I need to be prepared when, no doubt, the ass sends his yearly letter."

Inuyasha chuckled to himself a most devious laugh.  Yes, Miroku thought, it was evident the power of the youkai which swam through his blood.  Yet, even more noticeable was the power of compassion that only his mother could have provided. 

Miroku bowed deeply and followed his lord out to the snow-strewed garden where the first of the crocuses were beginning to bloom. Their colors were that of sunset freshly painted with the palest yellow of dawn. Their beauty was subtle against the pristine freshness of the snow. Yet, Miroku noted, his lord noticed none of this. His lord was not unaware of their beauty, but he overlooked it. He saw the trees, despite the forest. 

``````` 

"Lord Sesshoumaru…" the voice croaked from behind the Cyprus door. "I have news…"

There was the sound of shuffling parchment being placed into a shelf, and then the murmur of a soft voice, "Come in, Jaken."

The frog demon stumbled in on his stubby legs, his flesh puckered and wrinkled like the plums. In his small almost scaly hand, he held out a piece of rough and torn parchment speckled with mud and the like. No doubt, it came from his spies that he had situated in _his _land. The message, he mused, was an express. Reaching out for it, Lord Sesshoumaru placed it on top of a highly polished table and began the task of reading the matter at hand.

The frog demon waited nervously in his anxious attitude, scanning the walls for signs of life. Spiders or flies were always a welcome in this insanely clean mountainside retreat. Figures walking past cast shadows onto the ornamented shoji screens that were situated behind Sesshoumaru, and Jaken shivered slightly hoping that his master had not become lazy in the off-season for recreation. On the other hand, Jaken pondered, his master was a youkai…and rarely they allowed themselves the pleasure of laziness. 

Jaken, turning his large beady eyes to where his master sat, stiffened as he saw the icy stare of one of the most feared youkai in the country become filled with annoyance.

"Are you done?"

"Yes, Sesshoumaru-sama." He found himself replying nervously as be bowed his head out of custom. There was a silence as the piece of thick paper was being carefully folded and then set to the edge of the table where a large chunk of amethyst was used for a paperweight.

"It would seem that Inuyasha has decided to make an attack soon…"

"I have heard nothing, Sesshoumaru-sama." Jaken mumbled to himself. During much of the autumn and all of the winter, there had been no news from the lands that his lord's brother rulled. Now that spring had begun to melt into existence, all had still been quiet. He had kept his eyes and ears open in hopes of pleasing his master. Yet, once again, no such luck would come to him.

"Of course you have heard nothing. You do not listen properly." Sesshoumaru scoffed in disgust as he poured himself a cup of steaming sesame tea a servant had brought him earlier. He sipped it cautiously, and then confided, "Inuyasha has decided to make an alliance with the most prestigious house of Higurashi."

The youkai lord waited a moment to see if such facts had pierced the frog's thick skull. Sighing, he continued, "I take it you do not know that the house of Higurashi makes much of it's wealth through weapons, particularly bows and arrows as well as swords of fine quality, suited for typical warfare."

"I was not aware of this fact, forgive me, Sesshoumaru-sama." Jaken chocked out a bit stoically as his fists clenched out of embarrassment. Yet, Jaken thought, _why would there be an alliance between the house of Higurashi and the likes of Inuyasha?_

"It seems," his master continued, "That the house of Higurashi has been cursed with a daughter. A most…" he paused, sipping the tea again and looking for a word in which he could describe the rumors, "…a most free-spirited one."

"Ah, they have indeed been cursed." Jaken nodded in agreement. Daughters were trouble to begin with, but free-spirited ones only added to discontent that was already so abundant through most noble women. 

"Yes, indeed. Never the less, her dowry is a most handsome one. He will be able to have unlimited weapons to help control his reign of power in 'his' lands.  That is…if he will marry such a girl." His lord's voice had now gone hard and he spat in contempt, "We must find an alliance with someone so as we can make a swift counter attack. I will make Inuyasha pay for stealing what is rightfully mine."

Jaken, from his bowed viewpoint, noticed his masters' claws clench notably. So much his knuckles had begun to turn white, and soon he would puncture his own skin. Mercilessly, his master calmed himself, and said smoothly, "Look into the possibilities of this marriage. His downfall in taking a bride might be of some use to us."

The shoji screen leading to the outside was smoothly opened and a typical Japanese woman (except for the fact that she was a demon who was possessing the body) said warmly, "It is time for dinner, Sesshoumaru-sama."

It was amazing, Sesshoumaru realized, how easily all these demons lost their nerves when one helped them from the brink of death. He was really astonished (as much as he could be) how so many of his kind were content living a life posing as a human. It disgusted him that anyone would want to be a human…or even fall in love with one. 

Dismissing Jaken, he turned to the table and drew out a large map. He had to begin to put the pieces into place, yet they seemed to be falling together quite nicely. 

~~~~~~~~~

AN: well, this is the first time I have ever attempted to write an IY fic which actually takes place in the time it was meant to. I don't know if I would classify this as an AU, because IY is a hanyou, Miroku is a past monk, Sango…I dunno…Sesshoumaru is a lord, and a youkai, and it takes place in feudal Japan. However…Kagome is not from the future, in case you couldn't have guessed, Kagome is the 'free spirited' daughter.

PS: an 'awase' is a lined kimono usually worn in cold weather. Be warned, I plan to use some clothing and food terminology, but I will always explain either at the beginning or end. 

What would I classify this as? …hmm, a romance, mixed in with a backdrop of feudal warfare.


	2. lulled by her tears

AN:  I am going to try to see if I can get this marriage ceremony right…

Disclaimers: I don't own anything really mentioned in this story.

Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

`````````

Sesshoumaru set down the bamboo brush that he was using to write a long and detailed letter to a possible ally against his brother. Although the man was nearly unheard of up until recently, he was quickly gathering power from deep in the Alps.  Such an area would be of great use to him.  There were many scattered and fertile valleys in the vicinity in which all the advantage of growing such crops as rice, melons, and off all delights: plums and sweet peaches.  The isolated quality to the area that was beneficial. It surrounded by mountains, which, if his brother ever decided to try to puncture, would have no such luck. 

This man, or demon (it wasn't made quite sure to him which) seemed very happy to acquire such an ally as him; yet the enthusiasm was perhaps a bit misleading.  He felt a vague feeling of uncertainty, a thing, which although rare, demanded further contemplation.  Another point, which did irk him about the man, was his choice of name he had given himself.  At times it seemed to overdone in its glory, while at other times it seemed a sick and sad imitation of some other, greater, wiser war lord.  Who would choose such a name as Naraku?

Now he found himself gazing down at the steep drop and the surrounding vista that surrounded his chamber.  Tonight his brother would take a wife and this in itself was amusing, as well as slightly disgusting.  His brother had stepped lower than his own mutt species to procreate with the likes of a human. No doubt, the child, if there was one, would be born human, or with less demon blood than his father.  His family heritage was slowly sinking in the ranks, and it was up to him to make sure his house remained one of the most feared and envied of the youkai.

Drawing the blade from its sheath, he studied the old and bent piece of metal.  This, which he held in his hands, was all his father had thought to give him. This was his love. An old, bent, and rusty sword. 

````````

The sun rose gently over the nearby mountain slopes.  Slowly, ever slowly, the mounds and shadows were illuminated as it worked its way across the morning sky. Today, she sighed, she would become someone else's property, as was her destiny.  Placing down her most prized chataku cup she gazed at it tenderly.  She could bring few possessions to her new household, except for her elaborate kimonos, which, like so many other things, she would have to wear everyday for her married life.  Gifts and toys of her childhood would be burned, precious letters and books as well. She was to begin over, a new and happy life.  A new and economically sound life. 

        Long ago, she gave up the childish idea of being married for love. To run away would do no good. They would have found her, brought her back, and shame would have been cast onto her family.  With wealth came the burden of having to marry to acquire more such wealth, as the Higurashi family would eventually do.  To marry was something all women would have to ultimately, and this fact was unavoidable.  It was miraculous that she had managed to live until she was 19 without being wed.  Her best friend had been married at age 13, a most typical and respectable age for most nobles.  She was an old maid compared to most and what a blessing it had been when the respected Lord Inuyasha had asked for her hand in marage.  

        A blessing to some… and a curse for others.

        Of course, they had never met before in their life, but this was conveniently overlooked.  Her parents would have protection and profits from her future husband, he would, of course, get weapons to keep the other warlords at bay, and she would have a life of luxury with one of the richest men in all of Japan.  

        It had been the day of the first New Year as a servant escorted her to the nearest Shinto shrine that she was to be engaged to the man.  Of course, Kagome was not directly told by her parents until a month ago when the preparations had begun.  Clothes had been made, burned—the house had brought in landscapers, she had been put on a strict diet, routine and friendlessness was beginning like the oncoming spring. 

        It had been the first day of the New Year as she made her yearly pilgrimage to the shrine to pray for a long life and happiness.

        This was the way things were done. This was her happiness she would be forced to swallow.

```````

Miroku glanced up from a new novel he was reading as his master entered the room. Bowing quickly, he soon found that his gesture of honor had been waved away as Inuyasha slumped to the ground in a most ungraceful and childish way.  His face was that of anger, and frustration. No doubt, Miroku thought, the fatal blow of telling him his marriage was tomorrow was beginning to have consequences.

"Good morning, Inuyasha-sama." Miroku found himself murmuring as he began to read the novel again.

The lord grumbled or mumbled something and fidgeted slightly.

"Is this something bothering you, Inuyasha-sama?" Miroku questioned again. Really, it was too much fun to poke at him this way. Of course there was something wrong, and most likely it would take years to adjust to the change. Yet, in reality, marriage was not as big a deal as he made it out to be.  In the way of nobles and lords like Inuyasha it was commonly thought to visit the wife only at nights, for obvious reasons, and as soon as the morning sun rose he could once again tramp off to the muddy battlefield.  The wife would remain contentedly at home, and all would once again be well. 

At least, this was what Miroku hoped.  It was only until he had sent of the engagement letter a month ago that he began to hear the rumors of the girl that would soon be his lords.  What first worried Miroku were her looks—and, why yes, everyone agreed she was a most beautiful lady. Miroku had questioned then if she was smart, for although he preferred his women on the slightly stupid side, Inuyasha, eventually, would have liked someone who he could talk to about the realities of war. His master wanted an equal. He knew that Inuyasha very much locked his emotions inside heart, and perhaps the two could complain together, or something to that affect.  Well then, Miroku had questioned, what had been the problem? Was she not smart? Was she not beautiful? Ah, but the servant added, she was a free spirit and would not bow down to her husband as readily as some.

This did pose a problem.

However, Miroku was sincerely glad his lord was a hanyou, although half human, he was certain his demon side could scare her into submissiveness.  If not, than that was Inuyasha's problem.  With power came great problems.  Marriage was just another one along the road of life. 

"Are you sure there isn't another way to get weapons?" Inuyasha grumbled as he poured himself a cup of tea that Miroku had brought.   Miroku found himself chuckling, much against his will, and he answered, "Well…There are other weapons manufacture's to be sure, unfortunately one has a son and the other one has a seven year old daughter."

Inuyasha sighed in defeat, as he thought aloud, "It won't be so bad. I mean, she is a woman, how bad could she be?  Once the winter snows melt I can be out of the house nearly all day, and she can stay at home and do whatever…whatever women do."

Miroku thought dryly to himself; women, especially noble women, do nothing.  The poor creatures—they really did have no way to escape.

"Have you prepared the house for her arrival?" Inuyasha stammered a bit forcefully hiding his face behind the teacup.  Miroku nodded and began to list off all, which had been done, in order to prepare for this most joyous event.  "Remember my Lord, when you do sleep in your chambers tonight, try to keep them clean. After all, tomorrow two will be sharing such a room."

His master blinked, and then, his face contorted, "Eh? What the hell are you talking about?!"

"Well, Inuyasha-sama…it is, to say, it is common for on the night of the marriage for the two to share a bed." Miroku began hesitantly. Why exactly was he telling this? Hadn't anyone ever told him about the facts of life?

"Eventually, hopefully, an heir will be produced." Miroku added after a moment. Maybe if he could plant the idea in his master's head such realities would come to pass.

Unfortunately the response was not one he could take as enthusiastic.

"WHAT!?"  He breathed, gasping for breath, his face flushed, then, continuing in a strained voice, "What…did you say?"

"To produce an heir." Miroku repeated simply, hoping such an open attitude would help the situation.

There was silence as the hanyou lord closed his eyes trying to calm his being.

"It is a part of life, you know…" Miroku continued.

"Yes, I understand that," He admitted angrily, "I am not ignorant in the process of procreation…"

"Oh…well then, there is nothing to worry about, Inuyasha-sama." Miroku urged, as he promptly closed his book and stood up.  The marriage was having his toile on his master. Hopefully, it would not cloud his mind too much—to stray away from his life's goal would only bring his downfall. 

"Feh, nothing to worry about…" Inuyasha repeated gazing unseeingly down at the fresh tatami mats that had been purchased. "She is just a woman."

"Yes, nothing. Do as you see fit." Miroku finished as he stepped out of the room.  He was beginning to have a feeling that if he poked or prodded his lord too much that he would explode and he himself would still be putting lord back together on the day, and night, of the wedding. 

`````

Had she smiled during the celebration? Looking over the later part of the afternoon glossed heavily with drink and food and the servants playing the shamisen, she couldn't remember smiling. She had laughed, but did that really count?  When not laughing she was staring blankly at all which lay around her. All that she had grown accustomed to; all which in those few short hours would no longer be hers. 

And now, her house was at least ten kilometers away.  Ten kilometers was not much in reality, yet at this moment she felt as if a sea separated herself from her childhood, her past life.  All the memories were someone else's.

She rode by herself, her parents following behind her in a similar carriage.  Dressed in the kimono for the wedding in which layers upon layers of painstaking beauty were laid with only one place to go.  She dared not move unless she should ruin her hair, or kimono.  In reality she couldn't care less if she showed up to his wedding with a hachi-maki on her head and a hanten on her body—this marriage was no importance to her. Kagome knew she was just a pawn in her parents and the Lord's game.  This was the way of women; they were traded, bartered, and bought for someone else's goal.

Yet, why couldn't her parent's have chosen someone at least human?  What if he was shaped like some large fat man with horns sticking out of several places?

It was of no use to think of such things, her fate was already sealed.  Hoping for a better life was all she could do.  Closing her eyes, she attempted not to cry.

```````````

The wedding ceremony had gone peacefully and smooth, perhaps almost excessively smooth.  There had been no embarrassing comments, no trite jokes, and no mishap with the foodstuff. Yes, all had gone as smooth as the silk that Kagome had found herself dressed in.  As she had entered the great house, which in reality should have been called a palace, she found herself astounded by the beauty that had been so beautifully crafted in both the architecture and the surrounding landscape.  It was not traditional in design, yet it held something that was deeply rooted in tradition.  It had a scent of wonderment and a sense of an untamed quality—and Kagome realized that these gardens would be her only happiness in such a house as this.

She had been led, her parents and younger brother following behind, into a great room.  As she walked through the house she noticed the fine details that the wooden beams had been afforded, yet she tried not to notice much.  She would have the rest of her life to know and understand this gilded cage—she should limit her intake.  By the time of her death she would know each hole in the wall, each handcrafted detail…things that perhaps no one knew.  Kagome found herself playing the role of the submissive wife quite nicely as she preformed every step in sweeping graceful brilliance, and no one, except what appeared to be an advisor, noticed the absence of glimmer in her eyes.  Kagome was like a puppet, moving, talking, smiling—but no life ever graced her features.  Not even when the lord himself stepped into the room did her breathe catch.  She watched the young man hazily as he seated himself formally beside her own figure.  Perhaps she did not even hear his rich, low voice…

Kagome observed all that lay before of her, her parents looking serious and mournful, her brother looking on the verge of tears, and a few people which in her years to come she would know with great clarity.  Yet, she could not bring herself to turn her head to look at the man that was now her husband.  The Shinto priest was pouring the Sake into the saucer like cups. Carefully with much grace and practice, he placed it into Inuyasha's hand.  He brought it to his lips and took a sip, then passed it in her direction.

This would be the first time they would have touched. Ever.  This would be there first embrace.  She lifted her hand and reached for the swimming saucer.  His hand had caused the porcelain to turn momentarily warm when not exposed to the cool air.  For a moment, at most, she felt his skin, which had grown soft during the winter.  Looking up into his face for only the briefest of moments she found that he was gazing at her with a look in incredulity on his features.  It was as though he was surprised, or perhaps repulsed by the way she looked.  Then…she realized it… Bringing her hand slowly up to her face, she felt the wetness of tears.  Bowing her head quickly down she took a sip and passed it on.

The lord had been shocked by her emotion.  Perhaps he was dissatisfied with her already…yet, it was too late.  With the taste of the Sake still burning her throat, she realized she was now wed to Lord Inuyasha. 

Miroku frowned from his seat farther away due to his 'lower' rank, despite the fact that he was Inuyasha's childhood friend. Yet, he would not argue.  What worried him now was that his lord was both embarrassed and extremely nervous.  When two such things came together there was only one possible outcome; which was that of crankiness.  The wife, or future to be one at least, seemed almost dead in her painted expression, and only when she was forced to bring the Sake from her lips did she move.  Miroku knew the girl was not weak, for one could tell by the nature of her face, and the shine to her hair—yet it was as though no life in her remained.

He kept his eyes on both his Lord, and from time to time his wife, as the night wore on.  Celebration was had with much eating, drinking, toasting and the like.  He watched his Lord as he began to become intoxicated; he watched as the wife excused herself to bed; he watched as the guests slowly left; he watched as the servants took away the food.  It was not until only he and his lord remained that he dared to move forward.  He had hardly spoken to him since before the Higurashi family had arrived—and only a few words of encouragement at that. Pouring himself a glass of Choya, he leaned causally over the table and met Inuyasha's eyes, now glazed with alcohol.

"Congratulations." He found himself saying.

His lord said nothing and instead gazed at the table in front of him.  His face was unreadable. 

The room flickered in the candlelight that a cool breeze brought in from the open patio.

"You are a married man now." Miroku continued idly twirling the currently empty cup.

His lord glanced at him, his eyes cold and angry.  It was eyes that Miroku only witnessed when in the battlefield—the time when the resemblance between Inuyasha and his brother was startling.  A cold person remained in the battlefield; as did the one that sat near him.

"You should probably get some sleep…" Miroku mumbled as he himself yawned.  His lord had come bursting into his room at five o'clock in the morning insisting that he did not want to get married and that he should call off the whole thing.  This would have brought disgrace, Miroku had explained sleepily.  The rest of the day was spent trying to persuade his Lord, a most strenuous task indeed.

"Don't you think that is what I have been avoiding, idiot?" Inuyasha snarled as he threw the cup angrily out into the patio.  It broke and shattered.

Miroku stared at him in horror as he watched the alcohol only accentuate his rage.

"Inuyasha-sama…" Miroku began trying to calm him.

"I only just saw the girl today, and now she is my wife?!" He began angrily, "How the hell do you expect me to sleep with her?!"

Ah…things began to come into focus.  His lord was nervous.  The empty Sake bottles glimmered in the light as the pieces began to fit into place.  Yet, despite the puzzle coming together, there was nothing that could be done.  The society, which he and his lord were placed in, was one of rules and expectations.  If it was expected that his Lord should sleep with her tonight, this was the case.  Eventually, if an heir was not produced within a few years, talk would begin.

"My lord…" Miroku began hesitantly. How could he put this? How could he explain?

"Shut the hell up." He hissed as he hoisted himself to a stance and angrily walked out of the room.

Perhaps fear was Inuyasha's best ally—the fear to do what he dreaded. 

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The door slid open and Kagome sat up in alarm, clutching the blanket around her frame.  She had been in his chambers for at least two hours now gazing out at the moon.  One more day, and it would have reached its peak…  She had hoped to flee from the loud and noisy scene of the celebration.  She had hoped that in some way this solitude could prepare her for what was about to happen. Turning her eyes to the door, she saw his figure shrouded in shadows.  His eyes were small-determined slits of darkness as he made his way towards her.

His beauty had not gone unnoticed when she first laid eyes on him.  Yet, what did it matter if he was good-looking or not?  Inuyasha had taken her for his own, captured her like a piece of Go, and now she was his.  Even if he were the most ugly man on earth, she would have felt the same.  Attraction to the appearance had nothing to do with it.  If she became attracted; all would be lost.

This last act would bind her to this man forever.  Once he took her body, she would be his.  Each night would be the same rhythm of grunts and groans amidst the small shelter which the screens provided.

Perhaps if they had met before, not under such circumstances, this action would have been easier for the both them.  She would not be trembling as she was now, and she would not fear his touch.  Nevertheless, this was to be her married life.  

Kagome watched him silently as he slowly made his way forward as he began to take off the many layers of the ceremonial robe that he was dressed in.  Kneeling to the ground, his eyes nearly level with her own, he gazed at her.  It was an unreadable look distorted by alcohol and the shadows of the night.  He leaned down towards her body and slowly began to wrap his arms around her body, now only dressed in a sleeping garment.

Closing her eyes as the man, her husband, crawled onto her she promised that she would not cry.  She was stronger than this burden, and she could rise above and beyond it.  Painfully, she was aware of the figure running his claws through her undone hair, then down the nape of her neck.  

Inuyahsa leaned closer and inhaling the scent of lilac's, a scent that he would learn to identify after this night, he enjoyed the moment of innocence.  His wife was beauteous and young, more beautiful than he could have ever expected.  Yet, such truths as they were would not stop him in his decision.  Although already enticing him with her scent and arousing hidden emotions in his body…he could not bring himself to do such a thing.  Not to a woman he did not love.  Not to a woman he did not respect.

Pulling slightly away, he whispered into her ear, "Cry for help."  He had to make her understand.  If she wanted nothing to happen she would have to cry, scream, or moan.  The house would then exhale a sigh of relief, as they believed that she had reached the climax.  A man was not expected to cry out in pleasure, no, only that was a woman's way. 

His wife's eyes opened and he gazed down into them as he repeated, "Cry for help."  Once again, he was startled at the color of her eyes that were accentuated with the liquid that began to ooze from their azure depths. 

Yet, confusion was evident, and he had no patience for this.  Tightening his grip around her wrists he commanded, "Cry. Now."  She was shivering beneath his body and shortly his eyes clouded over with an emotion he could not understand.  Instinctively he dropped her wrists and rolling off her body he began to undress himself.  He could feel her gaze—yet now he did not care.  Her wanted to distance herself from her and her womanly ways. He could not do what others expected, and he had never wanted to.  He would not begin tonight.  Tossing the blanket over his body, he snarled, "Don't make me tell you again."

Allowing a soft sort of relief to spread through his body, he fell asleep listening to her sobs. 

~~~~~~~

AN: *smirks* yeah, poor Inu-kun couldn't make himself do it. I couldn't blame the poor guy.  Dun worry y'all…much more…'stuff' to happen still! Btw: Kagome is not gunna be some weak prick…she will toughen up, well, as much as a noble woman can. ^_~

Choya= plum wine

Hachi maki= those headbands you see people in anime wear when they are super motivated! GANBATTE NE!

Hanten= a peasant's jacket…also known as a happi. 


	3. form over substance

Shadows Against A Shoji Screen

Chapter Three:  Form Over Substance  

The rosy fingers of dawn had quietly slipped over the surrounding mountains, hidden in faded gauzes of gray.  Yet, slowly, their peeks were revealed by the soft light of morning.  From farms around the area, roosters began to crow, signs of life were beginning once again.

Kagome watched all this, quietly, like a dried sponge; she absorbed all she saw.  The large bending river, the flat fertile planes of dark, earthy rice fields, just ready for planting, wide green banks, and off in the distance the heavily forested mountains. 

On most mornings, Kagome would awake to the smell of cooking rice and miso soup.  Most days the hired young servant, Yuki, would gently awake her, and tell her what the weather conditions were.  Whether or not it was hot, rainy, cold; as though Kagome could not discern for herself.

Yet…this was the life of her kind.  Such facts of the world needed to be told to her—for the Lady was too busy with other things, such as flower arranging, painting, playing an instrument…she had no time to notice whether she was to wear an extra layer or not.

Today, though, was not like most mornings.  Besides the fact that it was the first fine day the land had been blessed with in about a month—this morning her husband, her Lord, would be returning home.  There was a momentarilycalm in the late winter storm…and soon it would finish with their lands, and be washed out to sea. 

This day would be the first time since their wedding night that she would see him.  That next morning, a month ago, she had awoken to the sound of burning leaves out in the garden.  It had taken her a moment in which to remember what had happened the night before.  The fact that she was married, and in a stranger's house; all of this took a few interminable terrifying seconds.  And Kagome could remember, for one chilling moment, she thought that her Lord had actually gone through with the deed—that she was bearing his seed within her now.  Then the night's performance had formed, and the thought had been no more.  She had remembered.

Earlier today, in the weak light of the morning, Yuki had stepped quietly in, trying to rouse her from sleep.  Kagome had remained motionless, her breathing never faltering.  She had been left alone, and escaped her Lord's presence.  

Yet, in moments Yuki would once again slide open the screens and she would leave her quarters and breakfast for the first time with her husband.

The Lady could not pull her eyes away from the world that surrounded her, this golden color of dawn.  Each meadow, each rice field called out to her; they called out for what she once had been, what they hoped she would become.

Now Kagome's eyes fell away from the landscape, and returned to the dim room her back was had been facing.

"Kagome-sama…your…my…" Yuki faltered slightly, unsure of her words.

"My husband has arrived."  The elegant lady supplied, standing and gingerly brushing out her kimono.

"My Lady, it is my job to dress you." Yuki mumbled, glancing up at the fully clothed beauty, her large black eyes wide in surprise.

"Yes. I realize that. I also realize that you have many jobs…it was only a little difficult."  Kagome replied smoothly, trying to make the servant understand that she _could _handle the responsibilities of putting on a kimono herself.

"I…I…" it seemed Yuki was at loss for words.  Never had she heard of a noble women dressing herself—the thought was absurd.

"I must go meet my Lord," Kagome stated, walking towards the bowed girl.

"Oh! Yes, Inuyasha-sama!"  Yuki flushed, having slightly forgotten in her hast.  Quickly standing, she walked towards the door and slid open the panel for her mistress. 

"Yes…Inuyasha-sama…" the Lady whispered, to only she, it seemed.

```

Miroku sipped the tea thoughtfully as he observed his Lord.  The white locks were slightly blown by the wind of the night, giving him an untamed and menacing look, his eyes were large and dark, full of anger and frustration, his mouth was pulled down in a deep frown, and even his arms were crossed in irritation.  He looked exactly like a child.

"My Lord, your face will freeze like that." Miroku chuckled to his own amusement.

Inuyasha glanced up warily, the last remark completely ignored, "What?"

The advisor shook his head sadly and poured him another cup of tea, and sipped it moodily as his Lord gazed unseeingly out at garden, and the persimmon tree that was in bloom.

"There will be much fruit this year…there is much fertility in the land."  Miroku noted as a blossom lazily fell to the ground, where it died with other fallen companions.

"Yes…those farming techniques that Bushudai-san showed us were very useful."  Inuyasha agreed, his golden eyes watching as another petal dropped to the still, cold ground.

Inuyasha sighed and closed both eyes while massaging his temples gently.  He glanced up at Miroku, and questioned, "Must I be here?"

"Yes." Miroku replied quietly, calmly, meeting his Lord's dangerously golden eyes. "She is your wife.  You may not love her, but you have welded together by means of matrimony."

The hanyou grumbled slightly, and nibbled on his lips, "You don't have to give me this lecture."

"I know. Nevertheless, I feel that it is the time to say it.  You have not been told."  Miroku smirked gently, softly, at his most confused and irritated lord.

"The fact that my most trusted advisor, and friend, also happens to be a pervert, (it) does not make your little speech mean much…" he paused, his eyes momentarily soft, and rather gentle in the growing light of day, "But its not easy to shut you up, once you get started."

Miroku's full lips turned slightly downward, a pained expression upon them, "You have ruined my fun now."

The two remained silent for a moment longer, and Miroku gazed longingly at the steaming containers that held their breakfast.  The transparent moisture rose up into the cool morning air, dying almost as soon as it was exposed.

"Come in."  Inuyasha barked angrily, folding his arms beneath his robes, his face beginning to turn rather flushed.

To Miroku's astonishment the thick rice paper screen was parted, and there stood his lord's wife. She was still as beautiful as when his lord had first married her.  Her dark deep blue eyes were still large and luminous, her elegant nose was not turned up with an air of indifference, her lips still full and filled with color, still plump…ripe…

"Good morning Miroku-san…" she replied kindly, graciously, her lips turning upwards to form a smile. A smile that did not touch her eyes.

This having been the first he had heard her utter even a word, the rich comforting quality in her voice surprised him.  It was not a nasal soprano that most women uttered; nor was it deep and masculine.  It was natural, watery, and filled with an innate grace.

It took Miroku a moment to respond, not even aware that the wife knew his name.

"Good morning."

The female had seated herself across from Inuyasha, a polished mahogany table the only barrier.  Kagome's robes were spread about her, and now her hands were together in a gesture of prayer.

"Itadakimasu."

There was an echo of the word, and then the deep blue eyes opened once again, the slight smile resting on her lips, as she picked up her rice bowel in one hand, with chopsticks in the other.

Observing Inuyasha, Miroku found that he was just as startled by his wife's friendly, smooth quality, as though the two had been eating together everyday for years.

"Good morning, Inuyasha-sama."  His mistress greeted softly, her eyes studying his face momentarily.

And once again, Miroku was stuck by the fact that this girl had only seen her husband once; which was on the night of the wedding.   The next day, they had set off to ensure that each province under his watch was properly prepared for the rice planting season.  This task alone had taken a month…and it was always vital that his master returned to his quarters every 29 days.  In summer, or in battle, this had always proven inconvenient as well as highly dangerous.  His lord's half brother was aware of the fact that his brother turned human on the night of the new moon—and often, this was when his most brutal and ruthless attacks took place. 

Did the Lady know of his transformation?  Had this been previously told?  Reminding himself mentally, he promised to have a word with her today.

Miroku's thoughts were interrupted by Kagome's voice once again, "How long do you expect to stay?"

"We expect—," Miroku began.

"We expect to stay for the night."  Inuyasha answered firmly, and then sticking a bit of rice in his mouth, he chewed angrily.  His action was his way of ending all conversation directed towards him.

"Oh? Only a night? I see…" his wife echoed, her eyes downcast, gazing at the teapot.

Kagome told herself, it was not as if she _wanted_ him to stay.  It was that she became lonely…if only she was allowed outside the castle grounds.  She would go crazy if she could not get outside of these stone walls which surrounded her through all her days and long dark nights.

"There is something I have been meaning to ask you."  Kagome found herself beginning.

All were aware of the silence that followed.  It was obvious that a woman such as herself was not expected to talk much.  It was a thick, deep, tense silence…a silence one could cut with a knife.

"What?"  Inuyasha barked irritably, "You certainly talk a lot, don't you."

"I can't really help that…the servants are busy with their duties, and I have none to fulfill."  Kagome said heatedly, placing down her bowl and utensils.

"Is this what you wanted to do? Complain?"  His voice was rising as well.  He too had placed down the bowl. His eyes were sparking dangerously. "You want to be a servant?"

"No. I wanted permission to go outside the grounds."  Kagome's voice was gentler now, quiet, calm, more subdued?  Perhaps the fierceness of his counterattack had overwhelmed her soul.  

"Are you crazy?"

Miroku had to agree the request was unheard of.  Of course, it was known that _this_ girl was unheard of. 

"No. I am not crazy, though I soon will be if I can't get out."  

The lady's eyes, once the color of a deep depthless lake, had gone icy and cold.

"What do you mean by that?"  

Inuyasha's temper rose, his claws becoming clenched fists.

"I mean…that if I cannot leave the grounds that when guests come to visit they shall find a very different version of myself—if one at all.  It's fine for you, because you are male, you are a hanyou—," she was cut off by the sweeping away of food by a clawed hand, and a loud, feral snarl of, "How dare you."

Once again, there was a deep, dark silence.  The sound of liquid trickling, and being absorbed into the tatami mats seemed magnified.

And yet, Kagome continued, despite the fact that her clothes were now stained with broth and seaweed, 

"Its fine for you, you can go traipsing about the country, because you _are _a Lord.  _You_ protect the people.  _I_, on the other hand, am allowed no freedom whatsoever!"

There was a long silence. One could hear the blossoms falling from the tree.  A shadow had distorted Inuyasha's features, and he spat, his voice choked by anger, "Get out."

The shuffling of now stained silk was heard, and the rough sound of the shoji screens being slid open, then closed with a crash.

All was quiet.

```````

The deep fog clung bitterly to the mountainside, refusing to release its watery grip.  The mountainside lake was barely visible, and the only detection of its existence was the calm, rhythmic lapping of shallow waves against the pebbly shore. The misted pine trees seemed to enjoy the cool and mild weather, and their deep rich uplifting scent wafted about the mountainside retreat in the cool hour of mid afternoon.

Sesshoumaru, from within his chamber, sat calmly, inscribing a letter.

Dipping the brush to refresh it with deep murky ink, the door slid open, and Jaken appeared, his face disturbed, and troubled.

"Sesshoumaru-sama…"

His voice was distraught as well.

"What is it?"  The silver haired youkai questioned, his eyes never leaving his desk, as he contemplated a certain stroke on the parchment.

Sesshoumaru reasoned that most of the time Jaken was distraught about something or other.  Particularly as of late.  Ever since he had found the human girl in the woods.  The girl had energy in her, to say the least, and the fact that she was living in a house contaminated with lesser youkai and even a few hanyou was…encouraging.  This girl, Rin, as he called her, had taken to Jaken—and it was almost amusing, their relationship.  Jaken was always bounding into his room, begging, pleading, to send the girl away.

If for any reason, he enjoyed having her here, at least during the winter months, for pleasure.  Yet, winter was now quickly fading into the horizon, and the new era of spring was emerging.  And this human's place in the house would have to be quickly decided upon.

"It is—," Jaken seemed out of breath, his scaly face pouring down moisture, as though he had run uphill for some miles at least. "—It is Naraku-sama—he had arrived earlier than thought.  He is at the base of the mountain as I speak!"

Smooth fingers, tapering off into raiser sharp claws, quickly set down the brush, and rolled the now finished parchment.

"Have you alerted the staff?"  Sesshoumaru asked indifferently, his eyes wandering out to the foggy day just outside the open porch screen.

"I—I—you are the first to know, Sesshoumaru-sama."  Jaken fumbled nervously, now acutely aware of the mistake he had made.

"Alert the staff to prepare a room for Naraku.  Preferably in the west wing…" he paused, his mouth now forming a thin line, "And tell Rin to return to her room until I call for her. I do not know how _this _Naraku reacts to human girls."

Jaken bowed, slightly stumbling in his haste, his wrinkled face forming an expression of contempt towards the girl.

"When he arrives, have someone escort him to the tea house…_with_ beverages."  Sesshoumaru added, then, turning swiftly on his heal, he departed opposite from Jaken, towards the direction of the lake. 

It had turned cold and dark as soon as he had set foot onto the grounds. The fog hugged the mountainsides, and the forest was utterly devoid of noises.

"E-Excuse me…" Jaken began nervously, gesturing for him to follow.

The garments that this visitor wore were strange, even by _his _standards.  It was not often, if ever, that someone walked about cloaked in albino baboon skins.  The scent of this visitor was bizarre—although close to rotting flesh, it was a mixture of earthy fragrances, such as elderberry, pines—and then, strange of all, if his demon nose deceived him, there were scents of feathers, wind, and snow.  Even the way he moved was unearthly, as though he wad gliding along, as does a snake or centipede.

When the great pagoda came into view, Jaken breathed a sigh of relief, and quickened his step.

The pagoda was situated at the edge of a great pine forest, so close that overhanging bows sheltered the blue tiled roofs.  Like an island, however, the pagoda resided at the shallow edge of the lake, built upon many layers of earth, and stone, combined with mortar and cement—the structure was nearly indestructible.

The pagoda was very simple in design as well.  There were no walls whatsoever, instead great pillars, in which one could lean against and contemplate the view of the lake and heavens.  In the center of this eight-sided configuration, almost Chinese in design, was a rounded indent, where fires burned when tea or other beverages were desired on the particularly cool evenings.

The beverages, it seemed, had arrived, consisting of a handsome Sake container (in which steaming Sake had been poured), and smooth shallow ceramic cups.

 "Leave now, Jaken."  Sesshoumaru commanded firmly, his eyes cold, unreadable—their power obvious.  It swam quietly to the top, where it stayed for some time, until finally the expression was one of utter authority.  An expression that no one could dare to cross. 

"Yes, Sesshoumaru-sama."

Of his dealings after, Jaken knew not of.  What was said, discussed—never would he know.  

From across the desolate expanse of fog and trees, two deep masculine voices, ebbed and flew across the plane.  Their figures were regal, beautiful—and like the blade of a double edged sword, extremely dangerous.  These two men, these two demons, would, like the light of a midsummer's eve, draw one to their sides, so deep and so close, that when one realized that they were ensnared, they could not easily be released from their presence. 

"It is a great honor to meet you."  The visitor replied, bowing deeply, the albino baboon skins falling away, revealing the man beneath them.  His eyes were dark, abnormally so, as though there were no depths in these pools.  No reflections. No life. His full lips, the color of flesh, formed a sly smile, and his twisted locks fell about his face, contrasting with the intricate, yet subdue colors, of his garments that wrapped seductively around his toned frame.

"I have heard much of your dealings in the Yamanashi prefecture, and how it was so easily won," Sesshoumaru replied warily, eyeing the man who had now seated himself onto a silk cushion, reclining at ease. "I hope the same will not happen here."

"Of course not.  It is Inuyasha's land that will fall.  Those prefectures, and what they guard, are only what I desire."  Naraku replied graciously, meeting Sesshoumaru's golden eyes, which were watching him in veiled apprehension.

Sesshoumaru poured himself a saucer of heated Sake, and brought the heavy brew to his lips, his eyes never leaving Naraku's own.

"What do you want from Inuyasha?  He is powerful, you realize.  Your goal must be worthwhile for you to succeed.  You must be _strong_ to succeed."  Sesshoumaru questioned roughly, his mouth slightly turned down.

The figure opposite the silver haired youkai smirked testily once again, his dark eyes again meeting Sesshoumaru's own.  There was mocking and contempt which rested in these blank pools.

"I do not seek his sword and scabbard, if that is what you mean."  Naraku grinned, his white teeth flashing against his deep lips.  A chuckle rose from his throat again, "I would not dare desire that.  Truthfully, that sword means nothing to me…"

He paused, his eyes scanning the vista that did not extend far across the lake.  The world was white, secluded, and calm.  It was only the two of them, hidden beneath the bows of a pine tree, floating on the surface of the lake.

"No," Naraku breathed, sipping a bit of Sake he had poured, "What I desire is of no importance at the moment.  It is dormant—and for some, an object that is cast to the side.  Even as I speak, they are sewing the seeds for their destruction.  Your brother is predictable in every action—his hanyou ways have blinded his scenes. But, if you, Sesshoumaru of the western lands, are to join me, I must have your word that when the time comes for me to reap my end…you will not stand in my way…"

Naraku's eyes had once again met his own, the same ironic and mocking expression lurking, and prowling.

This man was dangerous, Sesshoumaru thought bitterly, perhaps even more so than he was. It was only the sword and the scabbard that Sesshoumaru wished to possess, wished to call his own; as it should have rightfully been done from the time of his father's death. Yet, this _Naraku_ lusted after blood, and the killing of innocent lives.  Had he, Sesshoumaru, grown so desperate?

"What is your end?" the youkai questioned slowly. "What do you desire?"

Naraku's long and shapely finger ran beneath his lip, his eyes lazy and lucid as they gazed down into the milky water beneath.

"Truthfully, I desire a girl, and only that."

Perhaps this man was not as dangerous as he had originally thought…for a man who would risk his life, the life of his men—for a mere girl?  That was ludicrous.

"Would this girl be Higurashi Kagome, Inuyasha's bride?"  Sesshoumaru quipped, amusedly, his eyebrows rising ever so slightly?

"It really…" Naraku breathed, once again smirking in mischief, "Should not be too difficult.  Those fools will not catch on until the end…and even then, they cannot succeed.  Inuyasha, as we both know, is stubborn, and will not ally himself with his bitch. This is his downfall.  If they have no mutual feelings of admiration, then winning her over will be too easy, in and of itself."

This man…this _thing_…he was right.  He was cunning, ruthlessly so…

"And, in addition, she is a noble lady, not trained for combat…she will quickly fall…"

Adding smoothly, though raising no alarm, Sesshoumaru inquired, "I have heard she is spirited…"

Another terrible, shuddering laugh.

"Oh? Yes, I have heard that as well…but I do not believe she is spirited enough to stand up to these…" Naraku raised his elegant hand, where long dangerously sharp claws glinted in the filtered light of the sun.

Sesshoumaru admitted he far from trusted him—but the fact remained that this temporary alliance would grant each their desire, swiftly and brutally.  It was what he had been waiting for.

"I believe we see eye to eye."  Sesshoumaru affirmed, nodding slightly.  

He could feel the blood coursing throughout his body; with each passing second he would be closer to obtaining what was rightfully his.

Taking a scroll of parchment, placed by his side, he unwound it, and offered a brush to Naraku. 

The two walked back to the grounds, no longer enemies, and far from friends; yet they were determined by their desires, and this had momentarily, if tragically, bound them together.

When the sun set that night, the plans to bring the downfall of one lord began.  


	4. mistakes beneath the leaves

Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

Chapter four: Mistakes beneath the leaves  

The great milky sky clung above the landscape, sheltering it from the meek spring sun above.  The edges were highlighted in a subdued white, like slightly faded snow resting on the old and gray bows of some trees.  Like waves upon waves upon waves, these clouds spurned over the horizon, their depths a soft bluish gray, resembling the color of a subdue storm far off at sea.  The danger had not yet begun, and the color was still comforting.

Yet, there was something extremely sorrowful about the scene…

Kagome was under the opinion that when and if there were changes in weather they should be abrupt.  It should be decided whether the day would be fine or rainy—it should not consist of an undecided god, who at times allowed the sun to peak from behind the thin wash of clouds, just slight enough to block out the light—yet not thick enough to be full of menacing water which would drench the landscapes. 

The figure of a woman, clad in shades of deepening scarlet and light lavender, was seated elegantly at the edge of the moss-covered garden, watching the employees quietly trim the branches of the red maple.

One of the old and wrinkled men turned towards the figure of youth and beauty, which would one day turn rotten and decrepit like him.  His lips twitched, revealing scattered teeth, sallow and gleaming in the perforated sunlight.

"My Lady," he began, hobbling towards the seated figure, using the rake as a support, "Will you play us as song?"

The figure, with dark raven hair and smooth skin, spread her mouth open in a smile, revealing white and lustrous teeth; although the fashion of the day was to blacken them.

"What would you have me play?"  Her musical voice asked.

"Anything! It's better than this silence!" a middle aged man, with a large belly, cheered eagerly, looking up from the koi pond, where he was throwing in their food.  Flashes of white, orange, gold, red, and black were seen in the transparent water.  Large, wide eyes, deep mouths.

Abiding by their wishes, the soft and utterly melancholy voice of the _koto_was heard.  So expertly did the lady play the instrument and song, that one felt that it was her heart singing.

How sad was the tale. 

`````

Rousing from a pause in the conversation, Inuyasha glanced up warily, "What is that sound?"  

There was another silence as both listened intently to the notes being struck upon an instrument from some distance away.  Miroku presumed that it was a servant, perhaps resting.  Yet, to his well-trained ear, the music was too sweet, and too beautiful to be anything conjured by a commoner.  The chords swept around the manor, their passing like that of spring; something beautiful, and gentle.  A deed that happened.  An act that was accepted.  Miroku found relief and relaxation flood through his body for the first time in months, as he listened to the slow, gurgling quality of the instrument. At his scene, his master's ears pricked up in interest, his eyes alight with mystery and wonder—there was something extremely comforting and causal about it all.

"I believe," Miroku began slowly, "That it is your wife, my lord."

Inuyasha swerved his head; his silver hair catching the midday light, and a look of bewilderment resided on his strong features.  Yet, the silver haired form said nothing and returned to studying the map that resided on the table, its worn and faded edges slightly crinkled with age.  Miroku was aware, however, that his master's ears still pricked to listen to the sound.  His hands did not move, nor did his eyes—as though a spell had momentarily transformed the angry and cross being into something rather soft and nearly fluffy. 

"If you will excuse me, my lord."  Miroku coughed slightly as he stood and made his way towards the door, "I must inquire about something to a servant."

There was a grunt and shallow nod from the figure as Miroku silently slid the shoji screen shut.

The advisor's lips pricked slightly at the corners, as he walked down the hall.  It had been long indeed since music had touched Inuyasha's ears.

Walking smoothly along the hall, Miroku tried to plan exactly how he was going to explain to _her _that Inuyasha, her husband, turned human on the night of the new moon.  The family had known that she was being married to a hanyou; yes.  Would the fact that this hanyou turned human every thirty days or so change anything?  Would the opinion be less or more?  Should the family be informed?

On the last question, Miroku decided a definite 'no.' The fact remained that Inuyasha _was_ a warlord—he ruled over people, hanyou, youkai.  He did not abuse them, or treat them harshly—in fact, he hardly ever dealt with his subjects.  He helped them when it was in his power to and when help was in need.  Yet, besides the distress signals—he let the creatures run their lives in peace.  When something worthwhile was desired, such as the rebuilding of the local shrine or a new well: Inuyasha did what needed to be done.  Yet, there had been treaties between youkai and humans, and perhaps for this, his master was hated for. Loved by humans, yet hated by part of his own kind.  If the fact was revealed that once a month their ruler was human, weak, and susceptible to a variety of death methods: then no doubt, this information would spread, and Inuyasha's power would be drained away.  

"Excuse me, my lady."  Miroku requested humbly, the barrier of thin rice paper, scented with elderberries, the only barrier.

The music was hushed immediately.  There was a short pause, and then her voice was heard, allowing him in her presence.

Opening the door he made his way towards her, sat, then bowed slightly.  The mistress has turned her attention and presence towards him, and did the formalities with all the grace of a geisha from Edo. 

"There is something I have been meaning to speak to you about." Miroku began in earnest, his dark eyes falling instinctively to the figure of the woman, trying to imagine her body beneath the layers of kimono.  His decision for his lord has been a wise one…and perhaps tonight the lady would carry his seed.  Perhaps in his human state he could not resist his human reactions and her womanly charms.  Contemplating this, Miroku waited for her reply.

Her large eyes fell to the moss covered path of the garden, a slight smile resting on her deep red lips.  "Before we begin, shall I call for something?"  She asked quietly, seeming to find the situation amusing in some way.

Smirking, Miroku chuckled, "Let us be frank, shall we?  I am not your husband.  Far from it. You do not need to put on airs."

He felt her startled gaze, and meeting her eyes he chuckled again, "Don't worry, my lady, when in the presence of our lord we shall both act the part."

Her eyes were wide in astonishment, yet, after a few moments, she blinked and laughed slightly herself, "I see.  It is rather dull to play the part.  Although, I only am forced to when _he _is around."

"Inuyasha-sama, I presume?"

"Yes. Him."

"Won't you say his name?"  Miroku chided, rather astonished by her transformation.

"Only when necessary."  She grinned, allowing her teeth to show, "Would you like some sake?"

The house was thrown into shadow by a passing cloud above.  For a period of ten second the house was cool, its normal colors transformed into blues, purples, and dark greens.  

"No thanks."  Miroku admitted, "But, I would like to talk about Inuyasha and tonight."

Her attitude became stiff, and cold. She bristled like an animal in danger.

"Yes…" she began, slowly, calculated, the fear evident in her voice, "What about him?"

Opening his mouth, Miroku was about to begin. And oh, how he wished he could have told her, and yet so ill arrived was the servant's time, that the mood was lost, as well as the earnest quality in their conversation.

"Kagome-sama…!" someone from the hall breathed breathlessly.  In the still open door, a slim and young figure appeared, "Excuse me, Miroku-san, but a package has arrived for the Lady."

"A package?"  Kagome questioned, curious at the rather large bundle the girl held in her arms.

Miroku's countenance became serious and concerned, "Here, let me see. We do not know who it is from…it could be something from Sessho—it could be something from the enemy."

Flashing a quick gaze towards Miroku, who was walking sternly towards the young girl, Kagome with withheld any questions she had about who her enemies were.  Yet, from the sound of the name, the similarities were uncanny, between the youkai Lord of the western lands, Sesshoumaru.  Kagome had heard the rumor of a tall, fair-haired demon, with an appearance of a man…with golden eyes…

"It could not be. Let me see if I recognize the writing."  Kagome insisted, not moving, her voice stern, and controlled.  She made it clear to Miroku that although Inuyasha was his Lord, she _was_ his Lady—and still higher above in rank, despite the fact that she was a woman.

"Miroku-san, please give me the package." She insisted, rising slightly from her seated position, "If it looks suspicious, you may have it by all means." 

The formality in their relationship had begun again.  Kagome was all well aware that when the time came she could use her power.  Having been born into such a family had allowed her to understand that as a woman in the world it was particularly hard to have control.   Being born into a noble house only increased your already weakening power.

The servant shuffled quietly towards her, and gently passed the parcel into her outstretched arms.  It was a comfortable weight, though the shape and size were extremely precarious. In length, the package rivaled slightly longer than the both her arms spread out.  As far as width went it was not so strange, and instead seemed only half the length of one of her arms.  Yet, as she placed on the tatami mat in front of her, she was aware that there were more than one objects residing within the fold of fabric and paper.

Examining closer, she read a hurried, scrawled and sloppy script, which read:

_To__ Mrs. Kagome_

_From__ Higurashi Souta_****

Underneath was a quick note:

_Dear ne-chan,_

_How are you? I hope that things are fine. I rescued this _

_when the time was safe. I hope it gets safely to you, and_

_is not discovered and destroyed.  Take care._****

The boy had then signed it.

Miroku too peered over the package, and questioned, "What did you have him send?"

Kagome found heat rising from her body into her face, and she flushed noticeably, "I…uh…"

Deciding that sooner, rather than later, the house would find out about the package and be most curious of the contents inside, Kagome murmured, "I don't know.  But, I'll open it…"

Miroku's lips turned down slightly, still unsure about the authenticity of the parcel.  Yet, his lady was determined, and he could not undermine his lady.  It was true he could go to Inuyasha, but then, those two were not on good terms to begin with.  This would just cause the two to hate each other even more, along with Kagome losing faith in their unsteady friendship.

Just as the final fold was about to be relieved from the bundle, a sound of hurried footsteps was heard, and another servant appeared at the entrance, her face flushed with the exercise, gasping in a mixture of terror and urgency, "Miroku-san, my lord—Inuyasha-sama, he demands your presence."

Cursing silently to himself, Miroku excused his company and hurriedly made his way towards his master.  Whatever the package contained, he would know not what, until late that evening.

``````

~

````

"What the hell took you so long!"  Inuyasha snarled angrily as Miroku entered the room.  

His form was positioned at the mahogany table, the old and faded map still placed quietly atop.  Surrounding him were a variety of objects that Miroku was not even aware that the house possessed.  Small crepe paper balloons, in shapes of animals, particularly of fishes and octopi; with playful, if not cartoon-ish expressions painted onto their faces.  A variety of tops lay around him, and a few other scattered games.  Miroku always had to remind himself mentally that despite Inuyasha's mature features, he was, as far has his maturity went, somewhat younger in age compared to his wife.  It was only concerning war, and his brother, Sesshoumaru, that the serious side of him dominated his impatient and easily amused countenance.

"What have you been doing?"  Miroku questioned, as he began to pick up the bright multicolored toys.

"What the hell does it look like I have been doing?"  Inuyasha grumbled irritably as he idly played with a top on the desk, "I have been bored waiting for you to come back.    Its not as if I can go anywhere and return before the sunset. I am trapped here…"  

Inuyasha paused; his features contorted into one of disbelief and confusion.  It passed, and irritability was replaced, "And then YOU abandoned me!"

"I'm sorry, my lord, I was attending to other, more important matters than your boredom."

There was a grunt from the hanyou.

"If I may point out, these words sound somewhat familiar.  They remind of the same attitude of your wife this morning."

Another grunt, more loud, and annoyed, "Don't talk to me of her! I could care less!"

Sighing, Miroku turned and mumbled, "As could I.  I may be your advisor, but I am not your entertainer.  Why don't you walk about the grounds—relax. Tomorrow we will be gone, and the stresses of the world upon us.  Why not just enjoy this 'resort'."

Inuyasha spat angrily, "It's more like a gilded cage to me."

Walking the length of the room, Miroku gazed serenely out onto the porch that over looked the yard that was beginning to awake itself from the doldrums of winter.  Murmuring, just above a whisper, he replied, "Is that so…"

```

The contents of the parcel quickly in hand, Kagome walked along the outdoor deck that bordered much of the property.  Adjacent to this deck were rooms with shoji screens as protective barriers.  In the evening, dark and heavy panels would be placed over most—although Kagome was not sure if that would happen tonight or not.  Her husband _was _home—and he _was_ a hanyou.  Not many demons could stand up to him.  Would the protection really be needed?  

Wondering about this, she continued to walk, every now and then gazing into the rooms (most unused, or guest rooms for guests who never came) and pausing to study them.  They were not interesting, although from time to time a perfectly beautiful wall scroll caught her eye—or perhaps a collection of pottery foreign to her. 

Deep in the back of her mind, something was calling out.  An idea, not yet formed, yet evident in its existence; though the purpose was still obscure.

It was at one time when she paused to gaze at an open room (in) which no one occupied, that she found that sometime earlier; someone had indeed been doing just that.  On the floor were empty Sake saucers, and a few bowls with chopsticks resting inside.  In the corner was a great stack of rolled parchments resting against a large mahogany chest of drawers, matching the low table in the middle of the room. 

Quickly glancing up and down the hall and finding no one in the vicinity, she swiftly crept into the room.  Kneeling at the rim of the mahogany desk, she peered down at the map, and found little wooden blocks of two color's,(white and red), placed in supposed strategic plots around the terrain.  Upon quick study, she found that the color that she was tied to was that of the red, located in the wide valley, and on three mountain ranges.  Hastily, afraid that someone might enter, she tried to remember how far Inuyasha's territory had stretched.  She remembered the valley was his, yes—but the mountains?  She was not quite sure.  Reminding herself to ask Yuki, she continued to study the worn and faded piece of thick paper.  To the west was where the white pieces lay, located primarily in the great mountains, as well as a few pocketed valleys.  Kagome's eyes drew north, and for the first time she noticed another colored piece…yet there was only one.  The wooden piece was black.

Drawing her eyes away from the map, she gingerly touched a few scrolls located on the other side of the table.  Opening them, she found a variety in each of the individual contents.  One consisted of a treaty between humans and demons in the Yamanashi prefecture—yet for some reason there was a large gash in the paper, which made the script hard to read.  Another consisted of the amount of rice that Inuyasha's lands harvested, as well as other scattered crops, such as melons, peaches, and then, of course, livestock. 

Grabbing the next scroll, she glanced up in panic as the murmur of voices drew nearer.  Promptly dropping the object she hurriedly left the room, and returned to the relative innocence and safety of the porch.  A moment later, as she walked quietly away, she heard the swish of the screens open, and the murmur of voices grow distinct.  It was Inuyasha and Miroku.  And, she realized, that she had discovered his study…or storage room, or whatever he felt like calling it.   She had found the archives…

Fingering the treasure her brother had sent her, she went to her room, where moments later she called Yuki for her services.  In the time between rapidly scurrying out of her husbands' chambers, and arriving at her own, a plan had been formed.  Kagome did not admit the plan was brilliant, but even if she _was _caught, she would make a statement.  If she succeeded, well, that was all the better.  If she failed then she could try to convince her stubborn husband about where her needs and opinions stood.  If he would not listen, then such things would repeat themselves.

Placing the bow, arrows, and quiver in the closet, she waited for Yuki's arrival. 

```

"Yuki-chan…" Kagome breathed hurriedly, quickly shedding her clothes behind a screen in the corner of the room, "Promise you won't tell, ne?"

Sticking her head out she gazed at the worried servant who was quivering in fright.  The servants' eyes were large, like that of a night animal, and her breath was quick and shallow. "My lady, are you quite sure?"

An expression of grim determination resided on her features, and a great strength shone in her eyes, "I am positive."

"B-B-But!" Yuki sputtered, tears welling up in your eyes, "What if something happens?  What if I am to blame?"

Kagome emerged from behind the screen, and Yuki's expression was one of silent amazement.  A soft tender smile of grace rested over Kagome, and she replied, "Nothing will happen.  Didn't I ever tell you I am skilled at the bow?"

Yuki continued to gawk in incredulity at her lady who now resembled a commoner.  Her makeup and hair styling was gone.  Layers of kimono lay smooth and rested in the corner, instead, the lady of the house wore peasants clothes, decorated in but a simple design.  It was not as though she did not look pretty, in fact, she still looked beautiful—yet it was a different, if not parallel sort of beauty. Her still blue eyes, like that of the ocean on a clear day, glinted and sparkled in merriment.

"Let's hurry…"

Yuki flushed and gazed down at the floor for a long moment, as though she could not let her mistress wander out into the great and cruel world beyond the gate.  Stepping nearer, Kagome added, "I have been out in the real world before.  It is only two in the afternoon. I shall be back before dinner."

The simple country girl looked up, blinking back tears, "Are you sure, my lady?"

Flashing a smile of purest sincerity and earnest attitude, she added, with a bit of adventure, "Yes."

A transformation began in Yuki, and she too formed an expression of excitement, and holding back a giggle, she added, "Alright. I'll show you where to leave."

Hurrying to the closet where she had hid the parcel from her brother, she now took out the bow, quiver, and arrows, and arranged them about her figure. The leather quiver now strung over her back, and the bow rested gently on her shoulder.

Kagome gently tapped Yuki's shoulder as they made their way through the maze of halls, "Thanks," she murmured tenderly.

Yuki made no reply, but a slight smile caused her face to glow in happiness.  

````

The building was old and worn, and smelled of herbs and spices, mingled with rotting paper and mildew.  A deep orange color of afternoon sun beat in through the windows onto the counter top of the shop at the nearby town.  Stepping in, Kagome found the air to be thick and heavy, and the ground dusty and dry, despite the recent rain. Finding her voice, she questioned, "Anyone here?"

There was a rustle and shuffle of papers from the far corner, and then a gruff and choked, "Hello?"

Calling out again into the gloom and dust, Kagome explained, "I want to buy a map!"

There was a shuffle again, and the sound of footsteps. As they neared the counter, and as the figure emerged out of the shadows, he responded, "Take your choice—all the types I manufacture are on the wall."  His stiff and old limbs lifted, and with a quivering, withered finger(e) he pointed to the wall adjacent to the desk.

"Oh, I didn't see." Kagome flushed, averting her eyes, and gazing up at the old and faded maps.  There were indeed a large amount, all labeled by numbers in their lower right hand corner.  She saw the islands near Okinawa, the great island of Honshu, Hokkaido—then there were urban maps, that of Kyoto, Edo, and Hiroshima.

Coughing slightly by because of  the dirt, she pointed smoothly to number eight, and said, "I would like that one. Number eight?  The surrounding prefectures." Kagome paused, aware for the first time that she did not have much money on her.  She had thought this would be wise, incase she was attacked by bandits on her way home, "Uh, how much is that?"

The old and bearded man took a moment to respond, as though having to numerically go through each map. "Uh…that'll be…" he paused again, "…'bout 700 en."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Kagome dove into her purse, but was paused by the slow and calculated words of the mapmaker, "Not so fast. Not so fast. I make the maps, then you pay."

Throwing him a bewildered look, he continued, "Most people around here don't trust merchants such as myself. I do not trust wanderers such as you.  I would rather make the map, and you disappear, then…" he paused, his train of thought gone.  The corners of his mouth drooped down, and he grunted and grumbled a sigh, "Oh well. I have forgotten. Number eight, you said?"

Kagome nodded slowly, studying the man's features.  The man's features were like that after a great flood, hard cracks and crevices against dark moist earth.

"'Bout an hour.  Go down to a shop called Tampopo—good Ramen place."

Flushing slightly in embarrassment, both for herself and the old man, she departed the dreary shop, and made her way into the heart of the small rural farming town.

````

The day had deepened now, and the shadows grown long in the approaching hour of the sunset.  Yet, still  the golden orb hung resiliently in the sky, resting gently above the hazy mountainside, as though contemplating all that it saw.  The world was in no hurry this afternoon.  Farmers and villagers could be seen walking along dirt paths, or trudging through the mucky rice fields to the local village.  Their straw hats caught the sun slightly, and as they moved with a graceful elegance through the fields, the sounds of songs were carried swiftly through the still budding spring air.

Inuyasha, from within his study, glowered down at the map, as he had been doing for some time now.  His eyes flickered to images of the mountains and then the sea, then finally to his homeland, where they had remained for some time.  Yet, by the disinterested look on his face, his mind wandered endlessly elsewhere, to questions and thoughts that only he could comprehend.

The shoji screen to his right slid open, and Miroku entered softly after having left some minutes earlier to inquire when dinner would be served.  He had informed the staff that his master was very hungry, and would hope that the evening meal would begin earlier than usual.  For some reason, Miroku had noted, the staff seemed disturbed by this news, and explained to him more than once, that this could not be done.  The fish was yet to be caught, and the stew yet to be prepared.  Miroku just repeated his master's words and left, although something lurked in the back of his mind, an idea which he would not allow himself to fathom.  The fact that the staff was hiding something.  They were unwilling to begin because something was not yet ready…or perhaps had not yet arrived…

"Inuyasha," addressed Miroku casually as he flopped lazily onto the ground, "I have just informed the staff.  Whatever the reason, it can't be done. The fish, or something or other to that effect. We will just have to wait. You will just have to starve."

The hanyou looked up irritably, and sighed, "It's just as well, Miroku, I have to go explain…"

Miroku, who had asked a servant, Yuki, for some reading material, looked up from the book, a look of pity and amusement on his features.  Heaving a sigh, he replied, "Sorry I didn't get to explain the circumstances to her.  A parcel arrived, and then you called, and now she can't seem to be found.  Very odd.  But, of course, I never had a sister, and don't know these woman(')s' ways.  Perhaps they all disappear come afternoon."

Inuyasha's thick eyebrows furrowed together for a moment, and he brought one clawed hand to his face, massaging his chin momentarily, "A parcel?  What was in it?"

Miroku shrugged; and returned back to his novel.  The Tale of Genji had managed to captivate him once again; what was it now, he wondered? The fifth or sixth time?  "I don't really know. She said it was from her brother.  Probably romance novels…or…" Miroku paused, his face forming a look of disgust, "…or things I do not want to know about…"

A note of urgency had come into his voice, "So, you didn't actually see what was inside?"

Miroku was completely lost now, and shrugged, "No. I did not. However, the package was nearly opened.  Nothing had jumped out and bit her head off. Don't worry."

Realizing what he had just said, he placed the large manuscript into his lap, and studied his lord seriously.  What exactly was he saying?  If anything he was ruining the potential of these two extremely stubborn people ever getting along.

"Wait. Actually, I believe you should worry." Miroku fumbled terribly at the confused Inuyasha.  "Actually, why don't you go look for her? You might as well get it over with, about being human by tonight, that is. And you can find out whatever it was that was in the package."

Inuyasha mulled quietly to himself with these facts and proposition made by his friend.  True, he would be killing two birds with one stone by going to her now, and that was always good.  For another thing, if he did not tell the human girl by dinner, she would probably scream, most likely, at the sight of him.  And…he was bored.  Inuyasha always pondered year after year how he ever managed to stay in his abode all through the winter.  He remembered those long dreary months in somewhat of a blur, mixed with sleeping and drinking, when not going over the past years' figures.  In the spring, his boredom would increased tenfold whenever he was forced inside the stone walls of his fortress.  Inuyasha knew, and was aware, that there were actions he could partake in, armies he could assemble, plans and battle tactics he could be creating—if it was not for the damn passing faces of the moon.

Now, there was just another thorn in his side every time he would return home.  There would be her, his wife, waiting for him.  Calling out for demands he could and would not fulfill.  She would be here, a helpless human, with no life gleaming in her dead eyes.  And with this human, he was supposed to continue his bloodline through? This weak pathetic girl, whose life had no meaning and passed the days without recognition?  This pathetic human girl, he was supposed to love, and respect, and continue to uphold his heritage. The thought revolted him…

Although he despised the girl, there was nevertheless something fascinating about her.  Perhaps it was the grace with which she moved and her beauty, if nothing else.  Perhaps it was the fact that he had little contact with females, his mother, now long dead, the only one, except…that girl he had met so long ago.  And perhaps even more so, was the way that the two resembled one another.  He would not renounce the truth that he had noticed this on their wedding night. Yes, for sometime even, he had imagined the girl to be Kikyou.  He had hoped…hoped that somehow there was a mistake, and that really he was to marry Kagome's older sister, if there was one. And Kagome's older sister would be Kikyou…the girl he had stumbled upon on that fateful day…and how she had fallen dead into his arms by his brother's cruelty… 

No such luck had been granted him.  Yet, when had there even been luck on his side?  Fate in the past that always lent him a hand—but had he really ever taken his destiny in his own dispense, pulled it in the opposite direction, and forced it to work the way he wanted it to? Inuyasha knew the answer to this. He also knew that this was the key to his brother's, Sesshoumaru's, success.  Sesshoumaru had this ability—and oh, how he envied it. 

_Yet the girl…,_ Inuyasha though bitterly as he cleared his mind of Sesshoumaru_, resembled her so much, even in her movements, her glances, her smile…_

It was for this reason, and this reason alone, that he hated Sesshoumaru.

He could still remember the blood dripping from his fingers…__

Rising quickly, in his hanyou poise, he murmured more harshly than he intended, "I guess I will have to find her, if she will not come."

So he left, initially walking to her room, which overwhelmed him in its delicate fragrance of lilacs.  He called out her name, not tenderly, and glanced hurriedly about the room.  There were signs of her, yes, and if he had not been in such as haste as he now was, Inuyasha would have taken pleasure in exploring her chamber.  It was a foreign environment to him, a woman's bedroom.

_Yet…it was also his as well,_ he reminded himself. 

Striding across the length, he knelt down and picked up folded fabric, which consisted of her kimono and its various layers she had worn earlier in the morning. Yet, he wondered, why was it here? Neatly folded, lying in a corner behind a screen?

Sniffling the air, he was aware for the first time, of other scents—that of coarse fabric, like that of the villagers—and then, most peculiar, was the scent of lilac's blending with this earthy fragrance.  Standing abruptly, his eyes narrowed in suspicion, he began to trace the scent throughout the house, unaware that the sun was now falling fast.   

```

Steps echoed quietly on the gravel path.  It was the sound of panic, as though someone was chasing the keeper or there was a great lack of time.  The steps quickened, as did the strides, and the quick scurry turned into a run against the moist soil.

Adjusting her bow, Kagome wondered why she had bothered to bring the cumbersome thing in the first place.  It was not as though she had run into any trouble—there had been no perverted no warriors, no demon's…yet, night was rapidly falling.  Such dangers were expected at these hours. 

Stopping to catch her breathe, she gazed around her in the twilight, aware for the first time that there was no moon. It was the night of the new moon. (It did strike her as odd, as she stood there, that her husband should return on such a night—but her thoughts were scattered, and only concentrated on the quickest route back to the fortress.)  

Kagome stood on an incline of a hill, on which a road followed around the bend.  She knew that her dwelling resided on the other side of this hill, and a little farther on, perhaps another quarter of a mile.  Her eyes now searched for signs of people, dwellings, or anything out of the ordinary.  In the fading light, a wooden sign caught her attention and walking towards the side of the road (where it was positioned) she found it was a path that cut through the forest and eventually met the road she now traveled on.  In other words, it was a short cut.

Sighing happily in her good fortune, she quickly continued up the incline into the dim forest, wishing she had a lantern—yet glad now that she had thought of her bow.

````

The silver haired hanyou, as quick as lightening, ran through the forest terrain.  Inuyasha, his eyes now blind in rage and anger, and perhaps, though he would not admit it, fear. His expression was one of deep concentration as he sniffled through the damp spring air.  Pausing, his ears detected footsteps, but of where and  whose they were—he did not know.  Already his hearing was failing him.  Gazing down in his hands in horror, he found that his fearsome claws were now dull stubs, fingers that all humans had.

In the darkening day, he sped along the forest shortcut trying to keep hold of her scent.  Inuyasha, having followed her fragrance this far, realized the girl had traveled down to the village—but after that?  And, with his lack of hanyou senses he would not be able to track her far.  That was the reason he had taken this short cut.  From the other side of the hill the entrance was hardly noticeable—so, not many people traveled this way.  Also, there were rumors of great (though to Inuyasha, they were measly little maggots) demons lurking in the darkness of night.

If Inuyasha could arrive at the town soon without loosing her scent he could at least know which road she took had taken after she had made her way through the rural village.   Yet, he was loosing his strength fast.  Already his breath came in gasps, and sweat began to form on his brow, and trickle down to his human ears.  

And through the dense foliage, thick with rotting leaves of last autumn, and the new shoots of plants just sprouting due to the warm weather, Inuyasha ran.

It was almost in a mixture between blind fury and panic that he sped through the forest—unaware of the figure some hundred yards away, eyeing him in fear.  Night had now fallen, his figure cast into darkness.

Kagome heard the steps running towards her, she heard the broken panting breathe in the silence of the woods, and through the trees she saw the great mane of whatever beast it was.

She had no time to think, she realized this.  Purely in an effort of surviving, she quickly (and in perfect form and balance) grasped her hand around an arrow from her quiver, and strung it onto the bow.  The figure loomed nearer, and tying to call out she found her voice had vanished.  Yet, not her determination.  Pulling back she aimed towards the rampaging creature, now but twenty-five yards away.  She released.  There was a sound, like that of cicada(')s in the summer, then a shout of agony, the sound of something tumbling to the earth—and then, what she expected least of all, was adamant swearing. 

A cold sweat covered her chilled body, and gasping in horror she rushed towards the fallen creature, realizing that it was no demon she had stuck.  A spare arrow in one hand, incase her presumption was false; she crept towards the figure that lay on the ground, not moving.

Kagome realized she had never killed.  Had she done so now?

Seating herself next to the figure, still shrouded in the shadows, she opened her mouth to question the being, yet her air and voice was cut off by a strong hand winding around her neck, and squeezing without mercy.  She really was a fool, Kagome thought bitterly.

"Who the fuck are you?"  The creatures spat furiously, propping himself up on the free arm.

Her grip still strong on the arrow she thrust its point towards the creatures skull, and managed to cough, "Rett…megoh…"

The cold metal of the arrow touched the human's brow, and Inuyasha realized that this person could do considerable damage, considering that her arrow had oh, so conveniently, been thrust in his shoulder, causing the hand he was now strangling her with to be weak and without resistance.  Suddenly he felt lightheaded, and with reluctance, his arm dropped to the mossy ground—wondering to himself whether his death was upon him.

To his mild surprise, the figure did not move, and was silent for a moment, before questioning.

"Are you a demon?"

Sighing, feeling extremely weak, he grumbled irritably, "Would that make a difference? What if I was?"

The girl, Inuyasha figured, gave a small sort of sigh, and then asked, "What I mean is…were you trying to kill me?"

Laughing softly, although it hurt like hell to do so, Inuyasha retorted, "Do you think I would really tell you that?"

From somewhere in the forest, rustles could be heard, creeks and groans.  The forest was coming alive with the worst sort of beings.  Beings that even he, Inuyasha, could not even kill in his weakened state.

"Can you stand?"

"What the hell are you babbling about now, wench?"  Inuyasha groaned, wondering how long he could stay conscious.  The darkness that clouded his vision was beginning to seem tempting, compared to this social chit chat of this stupid villager.

"Damn," Kagome said silently, "We have to get out of here.  If I support you, do you think you could walk?"

Snorting in indifference, he teased, "Took you a while now, didn't it?"

"Just be quiet." She replied hastily, as she tried to hoist him onto her shoulder, most delicately avoiding his shoulder, where it was still trickling a steady stream of blood. Directing him in the direction she was traveling originally, Kagome thought darkly that there was no way she would return home unnoticed. Not with dried blood on her cheek, dirt on her face—yes, perhaps Yuki had been right in her apprehension.

The progress was slow, yet steady and for a while neither spoke.  Notions, although of different varieties, clouded their thoughts. And yet, as they continued walking, the silence grew to be uncomfortable—along with the fact that the scent of lilac's was beginning to dimly register in Inuyasha's brain.  The fact that his wife had run away was forgotten for a moment, yet now it came back and snarled at him with vehement ferocity.  

"My…" Inuyasha groaned, "My wife…I have to go get her."

Kagome said nothing, and continued to trudge along.  The fortress was now in view.

"Listen, girl, I need to go back and find her."

She stopped, and refusing to look at him, she sighed, "You're not going to find her in the condition you're in anyways.  So just be quiet."

"What do you know?"  Inuyasha snarled, his strength momentarily returning.

"I know that you're hurt, because of me. I'm sorry about that…"

There was a pause, and the sounds of four feet crunching against gravel and rock could be heard.

"Sorry?"  Inuyasha questioned, confused by the action.  Yet, he would not reveal that he could be so easily won, "Like that helps."

"No. It doesn't. You're right. So, just be quiet."

It was beginning to irk him now, this scent of lilacs.  It was exactly like the type _she _wore.  Yet, perhaps it was a popular scent…

Ten more minutes passed in silence.  Finally, Inuyasha questioned, "Where are you taking me?"

Adjusting her bow on her shoulder, she replied, "To your lord's residence.  I'm sure he will do something…if he does not yell at me first…"

There was a laugh, a hard laugh and yet strangely gentle and amused around the edges, "Oh really? Why? Did you insult him?"

"I don't know about that. I think he is too proud to be insulted."  Kagome mused to herself, stumbling slightly.

"Oh? Really? Now, this is getting interesting!"  Inuyasha exclaimed, being both pleased and repulsed at the same time. "Why do you say that? Do you know him?"

The scent was really quite uncanny.  

"Do you?"  Kagome questioned, poking fun at this stranger.

"Very well, actually."  Inuyasha admitted, puffing his chest slightly, except it hurt him to do so.

The girl made no reply, but instead quickened her pace as they began the ascent to the castle, located on top of a small hill. 

Scirting the main entrance to the building, she took a small path, mostly used by servants, to the back of the house, to where there was a small door.

"We could have gone in the back way." Inuyasha whispered angrily.

"Yes. You are right. But we didn't, but you're not leading me."  Kagome spat hurriedly, taking a key from her pocket and inserting it into the worn brass lock.  The door opened, and the two entered, much to Inuyasha's abhorrence. 

Slowly the two made their way to the back porch, where Yuki was slicing potatoes into a large pot.  The girl looked up, and her jaw dropped.

"My lady! What happened?!"  Dropping the knife and potato into the pot in her hurry she stumbled through the garden towards the illuminated figure.  Her eyes once again became wide, and dropping to the ground, she sputtered, "My lord! I…I did not know it was you…! Your appearance altered…!"

All this took place in a matter of seconds. 

Then all chaos broke loose.

```````

A pair of deep black eyes gazed intensely at the keeper of two deep sapphire eyes from where the figure was positioned. The keeper of these black eyes contorted his face into an expression of irritability and annoyance.  The keeper of the blue eyes remained impassive, refusing to grant contact.  The keeper of a pair of brown eyes entered the room, his arms full of a variety of dishes, bowels, teapots, and cups.

The blue eyed figure rushed forward, exclaiming, "Oh, here, Miroku-san. Let me help you with that."

The brown eyes, now named as Miroku, gave a sigh of thanks, and replied, "Thank you, Kagome-sama."

He paused, eyeing the black-eyed man, his expression of sympathy as well as slight amusement.

"How is he?"

Kagome glanced hurriedly in the same direction, aware that the murky eyes were following her again.

"Well…he has a slight fever now.  I guess his…" she paused, "His human body isn't used to this sort of treatment."

Miroku clucked sympathetically as he knelt down and brought out a box, which would serve as a temporary table in the lady's room. 

"Excuse me, Miroku-san…" Kagome began gently, kneeling alongside the seated advisor, "I was wondering, actually, hoping if…"

Miroku turned and looked at her, his eyes questioning, dancing with merriment from some hidden joke, "Yes?"

"If you would not call me Kagome-sama."  She breathed a little nervously, dishing out a thin broth in a lacquer bowl, "You can just call me Kagome.  We are friends, ne?"

Opening a lacquer box that emitted a large amount of steam, Miroku answered, "Alright.  Formalities aside then, correct?"

"Yes. Formalities aside."  Kagome agreed, grinning slightly as she added a bit of fried rice, now hard, into the soup.  As it entered the steamy liquid, it crackled and sizzled.

The two remained quiet, while Kagome poured a cup of tea and Miroku thoughtfully chewed on some rice.

"Oi!" Inuyasha piped up suddenly, moving a bit too fast, and falling down against his pillow, "I'm starving! And YOU-," he yelled angrily (pointing to Miroku) "Are sitting here eating in front of me!"

Pushing his lord down with his hand, Miroku replied, "Your lady is preparing your food. After all, she did wound you."

Inuyasha stared at his mistress, her face still stained with his dried human blood, her cheek still slightly dirty from the forest.  She looked rather sad at the moment.  And quietly he asked himself where the spirited girl had known earlier had disappeared to.  Not far, he would find in a moment.

"I am sorry about that." She replied quickly, flashing a quick, embarrassed glance at her husband, "But if you would have told me you turned human on the night of the new moon I probably _would_ have expected a long black haired thing to be running through the forest!"

Inuyasha tried to sit up again, and Miroku, again, pushed him down(,). "Listen you," he struggled angrily, "I wouldn't have had to get shot in my shoulder if YOU had just stayed put, like you're supposed to do."

Kagome glowered angrily at him, "I am not supposed to do anything. It's my own life, not yours. And, since you don't take any interest as it is, what concern am I?"

"I do take interest." Inuyasha insisted, eyeing the food hungrily.

"I'm sure." She objected. "Now sit up."

Deciding since she had the food it was best not to argue, he diligently did as he was told.

Kagome pointed to a variety of things that lay on a tray. "Here is broth, and tea and rice and a few pickled vegetables."

"T-That's it?!" he sputtered.

"You have a slight fever, and your body is in shock.  By tomorrow morning, you will probably be fine,  where if you so please, you can go raid the kitchen."  Kagome hissed as she stood up quickly and explained, "I am going to bathe. Excuse me."

She left, as she had that morning, irked.  The screen shut swiftly behind her, echoing in the quiet room.

"Well," Miroku chewed, "I am glad that progress is being made."

````

The next morning dawned cool and fresh, the sky speckled with a few clouds.  Opening his golden eyes, Inuyasha wondered momentarily _where _exactly he was.  He had become rather used to sleeping in other noble's houses on a day's visit, not his own.  Moving slightly, he found a dull ache coming from his shoulder, and the previous nights' events washed over him like a strange dream, neither unpleasant nor enjoyable. Sitting up slowly, he was stunned to find his wife sleeping soundly on the cold tatami mat.  Her face was that of utter exhaustion.  Glancing about her, he found a half empty bowl of water, and a washcloth hanging on the side.  She, he surmised, must have stayed awake all night waiting for the fever to break, feeding him fluids every hour.

Dimly he remembered a quiet voice in the darkness and her cool hand on his forehead.

Against his better will, he smiled softly, before covering her with his blanket.

He would have to stay for a few more days.  Yet, compared to yesterday, the prospect did not seem so bad. 


	5. traveling to unrealistic beauty

AN: A few notes on this chapter…

1.)Naraku is a highly sensual character, and highly sexed.In this story, I have decided to make him bisexual.Usually, he is attracted to females, but in this story, Inuyasha and Sesshoumaru will be an exception.

2.)WARNING: Later on the chapter, it does get slightly lime-ish, but that is only for about half a paragraph. And don't worry, neither of our silver haired characters will be having sex with Naraku.Although, this is not to say the dark haired bastard will not try.

Reasoning behind this: because I can totally see Naraku using his sexuality to overpower his characters.He is a ruthless person, we know this.Therefore, this is just another addition to him.If you do not agree, that is too bad…but this is my story, and since it is a 'fan fiction' fiction is part of it. *laughs madly in the background*

Shadows Against A Shoji Screen

Chapter Five:traveling to unrealistic beauty

Gazing dimly out of the window, Sesshoumaru wondered why exactly he had decided to take a carriage.Carriages were so…overrated.So…without meaning.Only the rich drove them, the rich who were clueless about world.The fat lords who overtaxed the peasants, which in the end would only lead to an uprising.The fact that he, Sesshoumaru, the great lord of the western lands, was sitting in a carriage was revolting.

Watching the landscape drift by on the mountain road (mostly an assortment of newly budding aspens, birches, and scattered pines) he wondered about the destination he was being whisked away to in the beginning of spring.The time of year when there was merry making, children, flowers, and laughter—why was he traveling to his dark comrade, who he trusted less than a starved mountain bear.Why was he allowing the lack of privacy between the two?

_Because_, he thought dimly to himself, _you want the sword._

Like the blooming of the cherry tress, and the falling of their petals; this statement was true.Never had he desired an object so much before in his life.The desire was bordering on obsession, and he closely watched his own actions, examining them for telltale signs.The winter had been too long.There had been too much free time.Too many invisible battles to plan, too many strategies emerging, too many dark and lonely hours...It had been one of the worst winters' ever.Sesshoumaru would not deny that he might have bordered on insanity if it had not been for her.For Rin.

It was not as though he loved her.He cared for her, yes.He fed her, yes.He gave her things to amuse her, things to clothe her—but he did not love her.Love was for the weak.It created vulnerability.Never would Sesshoumaru want a soft spot like the underside of a lizard.Never would he want his enemy to see fear on his features, and a cold sweat on his brow. Never.

The young girl had smiled and sang during those long, cold and white months of something more beautiful; the blossoming of spring.With each note that drifted across the snowy yard, he longed for such a time as well.Her dark large eyes had sparkled like that of a swollen river, and her laughter broke the tiring monotony of the day.

Examining a piece of his silver hair idly, he remembered the date he had stumbled across her in the woods near his castle.She had been bruised, bloody, and half alive.Things that he, a gentleman, would not dare utter had happened to the girl.Her body, her private temple, had been pillaged and sacked by the likes of man.And for one so young, only seventeen, there now seemed something in her extremely heartbreaking, and melancholy at times.A burden that a lady, such as herself, should not have to carry.Images that should not haunt her.

A month had passed, and only then did she speak gently, on that gray snowy day.The two had been breakfasting, the screens flung open so that the view of the pristine beauty on the edges of the brown and dead garden could be seen.Her voice had not been quiet and subdue, nor overly thankful.It had been she, and her alone, which spoke.

Therefore, this young girl, seventeen at the youngest, had come to live with him.As the dark months passed one after another, Sesshoumaru admitted to even himself that this girl brought a sparkle to his abode.A delicate sheen standing tenaciously against the crud and dirt of the world.A cheerful smile gracing her features, even when she blinked back tears.This was Rin. A human girl that he did not love, but a person he cared for.

The thought alarmed him that this young woman might be his weakness after all.Something he had sworn against for all these long years.

Allowing his eyes to drift to her reclined figure opposite him, a strange expression crossed over his features.It was not a look of pain or anger.The closest word that would come to ones mind would be; contentment. 

`````

Upon exiting the carriage, the most preliminary aspect of his surroundings that he noticed, was the abundance of flowers. It was strange, he mused absently to himself, that there should be such great numbers of them. As though the world was trying _too _hard to be beautiful. As though it was covering something dark, quiet, and clever.

Gazing into the dim recess of the carriage, Sesshoumaru called out, not gently, yet not firmly, "Rin, we're here."

The girl glanced sleepily up, and upon realizing their destination, she dutifully left the deliciously warm interior in which they had been riding for some time now.

He heard her breathe catch in her throat, and he could only presume it was because of the colors and scents that nature had provided in this mountaintop abode. Large, lazy magnolia blossoms arched over their heads, their lower branches concealed by the pale lavender of the tulip trees. Finally on the ground, were a variety of bulbs, late and early blooming and growing together in euphoric harmony. These collections of colors and plants bordered the sloping steps that led to the fortress of Naraku.

From out of nowhere, a servant appeared, smiled gently, and ushered them up the steps.

Sesshoumaru's deep eyes narrowed in apprehension. It was too beautiful. Too perfect. There was something amiss. Yet, gazing down at Rin, a few paces behind, he felt that he could not alarm her. The girl was already in a delicate position as it was. Heightening her concerns would only prove worse.

"Please, this way." The servant beckoned again, as they reached the top of the stairs, and gazed out onto the formal gardens of the lord of the land. "He expects you in the dining room for lunch."

"He knows of our arrival?" Rin asked quietly, her large eyes still glancing around in joy at the variety of flora and fauna.

"Why yes. Of course he does." The servant answered, her face suddenly seeming very catlike in its expression, "Naraku know everything that goes on."

Suppressing any reaction at all, none that would give away the uneasiness he felt, he followed the dainty servant across the gravel pathway. 

``````

The room was shady and cool, and seated down on the comfortable cloth cushions the three of them ate silently. Naraku, from his position at the head of the table, would every now and then glance up, and ask how they were enjoying the marinated eel, the pickled vegetables, the flavored rice.

Sesshoumaru, of course, made no response. It was not in his nature to indulge himself in social chitchat about things that he could not possibly care less. This was Rin's job. Rin was the social butterfly, a part of his personality long gone when the realties of the world had been thrown upon his back.

And Rin, truthful as she was, would reply, "Its very good. But…" she would pause, gazing at Sesshomaru and wondering whether or not she should continue with her critique.

"But what?" Naraku would reply coolly, his eyebrows rising in a most unnatural way.

"But…" she would begin again, slowly, and savoring the flavors on her tongue, "It needs to be more salty. Too much soy sauce."

This observation would then be followed by a silence, in which Naraku would test the food, and make no reply. He, Sesshoumaru, would just continue to chew thoughtfully on the piece of meat, trying not to allow the corner of his lips to turn up in amusement.

However, the meal was not so amusing as he would have hoped. In fact, it was rather dull and uneventful. Rin, although entranced with the grounds, seemed subdue and rather quiet inside his manor. And, he could possibly understand why. The style and design of the house was extremely traditional—as though this structure had been here for some times, for three hundred years at least. Everything seemed dark, and in muted shades of earthy colors. Rin's airy yukata was the only thing that even resembled colors that were now on full display atop the mountain.

Yet, there was something else about the house. Something dark, and old, and musty. Something that was not welcoming to say the least.

The meal was finished, and two beautiful ladies quickly whisked the remnants away. Sesshoumaru got to his feet, and began to make his way towards the patio, which overlooked the wide expanse of gravel and then in the distance, the inky mountainsides.

"It is," Sesshoumaru began coolly, "A very lovely villa you have here."

Naraku said nothing, his deep expressionless eyes tracing the visiting lord's movements.

"Did you inherit it?" Sesshoumaru asked, gazing down at his claws to study a speck of dirt beneath them.

The rustle of fabric told him that Naraku now too stood, and was making his way slowly towards him. Like a panther about to attack.

"No," he breathed, "I did not inherit it. In a way, you can say that I won it in a game of chance."

Gazing out at the spectacular blue sky of midday, Sesshoumaru expertly hid the questioning in his voice, "I see. This house is a representation of the power that you hold. Do you find yourself worthy of such an heirloom?"

Naraku lit a cigarette from behind and inhaled deeply. The terrible stench drifted across the room and he breathed in the scent. It was revolting like Naraku; his comrade.

"No. It is not worthy of me." Naraku replied coolly, his stance now casual.

There was a deep moment of silence, as both reflected out onto the sunny world beyond. Neither dared to leave the cool recesses of the shadows. The only one, who could bravely face the day without little fear, was Rin, who now sat at the table, gazing down at its glazed cedar top.

"Sesshoumaru-sama…" she began quietly, as she always did, "I was wondering if I could go down to the village."

Naraku laughed, it was not a kind laugh; no, it was mocking, and arrogant. "Why on earth would you want to go down to that maggot trap?"   
  
Rin was quiet for a moment, her eyes moving from one object to another, as though there was some chase taking place.

"Because I grew up there." She conceded, now hoisting herself off the ground, and joining the two men. "I will be safe. Don't worry about me."

_You know that is not possible, Rin. _

"Go. However, be back before sundown. Even you cannot stand up to such villains who lurk in these dark hills."

``

Naraku narrowed his dark eyes as he watched the lord of the western lands make his way across the yard. After the departure of Rin, Sesshoumaru had excused himself for a short amount of time. It was obvious that this youkai was not as strong as he had first appeared to be. Sesshoumaru had allowed himself to care. And if that wasn't enough, the object to which this was directed to was a human, and a female human at that. Naraku had surmised that Sesshoumaru would stand watch, and make sure the flimsy little thing got down to her maggot-like village. Naraku had played innocence with grace and had retired to the room he was now residing in.

Heaving a well-timed sigh, Naraku hoisted himself from the tatami mats that he was seated on.It was not as though he particularly wanted to move, the day, even by his standards (which were brutally high) was turning fine.The sky was abnormally blue, and the air atop the mountain made the affect like almost ambrosia.Yet, he had to leave the chamber—for his plans were now beginning.

And indeed, he had glorious plans for Sesshoumaru.

Striding smoothly along the deserted halls, he crept his way to the far recesses of the house, facing a deep valley, like a slice taken brutally from the earth.The midday sun did not reach this area well, and it sank back in the cool piney shadows, the red, bloodstained dirt surrounding the vicinity.Opening a non-descript shoji screen, and then another and another and another, he entered into the room, illuminated with a blue light, like that of fireflies dancing mindlessly through the summer breezes. 

Smirking to himself, Naraku decided not to sit, but instead stood in the center of the room, gazing down into a silver bowl, its water sparkling and casting light even into the darkest corners of the room. His lips turned upwards in a smirk of satisfaction as he noticed the way the water swirled and spun in its metal container.This was his most treasured item, even more so than his demonic powers.This jewel was one of the main reasons to his success.How easily he could turn a person's spirit, bend it to his will.It was all fun and games, and what prizes he reaped from it. 

Sesshoumaru would be just another pawn in the game for his ultimate victory.Naraku was painfully aware of the demon's pride, and dangerous, if not deadly, attitude.Yet now…the soft underside of villain had been revealed.For a time, Naraku would admit he was worried. There seemed nothing this inconvenient lord could not handle!It had been irritating.__

However, he would have to play his cards ever so carefully. If he moved too soon his plan would be discovered.If his actions and movements were sluggish—then the preparation would be lost, the time for action disappeared like the summer's breeze. 

Upon leaving the dining room, Naraku had informed one of his servants that Sesshoumaru was to meet him in this chamber.For some time now, the presence of this lord had been growing steadily stronger—and now he seemed just at the threshold. 

Of all of the rooms in the structure, this one was the most dangerous and treasured. Despite the fact that the walls were lit with an unearthly blue light which emanated from a bowl placed in the center of the room, it was also the room in which he was most at risk of discovery. While controlling his dispels, he was defenseless within these paper walls.

In this room, he controlled the figures that he created, he watched their births and deaths bloom and whither like flowers before his eye. His power amazed even him…but not only that, the foolishness of man, as well as demons, astounded him in their predictable ways. If you taunted them with things that they believed were theirs, the vision would be clouded by the deep color of jealousy.

And my, my, what plans he did have.

Sesshoumaru was not exception to his rule. Sesshoumaru would be hard to turn, but in the end, he could manage it. For months, he had been studying the personality of the striking demon lord—and yet, there seemed nothing that the bastard was afraid of; or even hated with a passion. Sesshoumaru did not even hate his brother as much as it appeared—it was only the sword he was after. For a while, Naraku had been close to panicking—yet after having watched the scene unfold in the dining room, he realized he now had his perfect plan. The key to Sesshoumaru's weakness was Rin. The pathetic human girl.

Leaning over the silvery bowl, he watched the mercury-like liquid gush and swirl by its own accord. His face was highlighted in shadows from the light, and smirking once again, he idly slipped his finger into the substance.Shivering in ecstasy, he quickly withdrew it, and wiped it clean onto his silken clothes. All that there was left to do was wait; wait for Sesshoumaru. Wait for him to fall into a hole in which he could never escape from…

The door leading to the chamber slid open suddenly, and turning a half menacing, half startled glare in the direction, he quickly smoothed his features and once again slipped back into his noble role.

"Oh, you found me?" He quipped, walking towards the silver haired youkai's taught figure.Naraku was painfully aware of the way the clothes hugged his form, and the bit of collarbone revealing his pale skin that he hungered for.

Sesshomaru did not reply, his golden eyes following Naraku about the room.

"Just as well," Naraku continued eyeing him intently, "There is something I have been wanting to show you…"

Really, Naraku thought darkly, Sesshoumaru was too good looking. Even by his standards.

The form roused itself, and questioned, "What would that be."

Lifting his arm, and pointing to the basin in the middle of the room, he moved towards it, like a mother extending her arms for their babe. 

"This would be my treasure," Naraku murmured, his long fingers gently brushing against the metal surface. "Since we are allies, I figured that it was time to let you in on the secret."

Whether or not Sesshoumaru showed some sign of interest, it was hard to say. However, he did move nearer to the bowl, his movements well thought out, as though every blink of his eye had to be first contemplated so as to not give his many secrets away.

Leaning once again over the bowl, Naraku hissed tenderly, "It does come in handy…here, let me demonstrate."

Sesshoumaru too inclined over the basin, the depths beginning to swirl faster and faster as though by his control. Naraku closed his eyes, and said in his deep voice, "Show me…Inuyasha."

The metallic liquid churned suddenly, swirling faster and faster…and then suddenly, it stopped, and its surface was calm, without a movement. On this exterior, the image steadily grew clear, and voices of people who were not present echoed throughout the room.

_"__Why the hell do you always have to play that instrument all the time?!__"__ boomed Inuyasha__'__s voice.___

_"__I don__'__t,__"__ began a stern, if not softer tone, __"__You just are always around when I do. If you do not want to listen, go somewhere else. Your castle is big enough for the two of us, you know.__"___

_"But why should I have to leave, eh? Its my castle!__"__ Inuyasha barked angrily.__ _

The image was that of two people seated together on a sunny porch deck, a newly budding garden surrounding them. Inuyasha was leaning haphazardly against a doorway, while glaring down at (what Sesshoumaru presumed his young wife) who was playing the koto.

Sesshoumaru caught his breath, and turned towards Naraku, "Where did you find this?"

Naraku formed a practically devious smile, "I never reveal my secrets." His dark expressionless eyes turned once more down to the bowl, narrowing ever so slightly as they rested upon the figure of the female.

"Beautiful." He breathed deeply, "For a human. There are not too many of her kind—those which had brains, beauty and breasts."

Saying nothing, Sesshoumaru studied the female form for a moment longer, his brother shortly forgotten. Naraku was right, it seemed. The girl was abnormally striking—and never before had a seen a human possess eyes in that shade of blue.

And for a moment in time, Sesshoumaru envied his bother. But that passed.

"Yes." He replied curtly, "She is quite striking."

Naraku glanced at the silver haired youkai in a questioning sort of way. The tone of his voice and the gleam to his eyes had been odd. It was a move he had counted on. Naraku had counted on the mutual attraction between Kagome and Sesshoumaru…and when the time came, how gloriously they would unite, at the cost of all others—of his brother, Inuyasha, and even the girl herself would perish.

Excusing himself from the place besides the bowl, Naraku walked slowly around the room, aware that Sesshoumaru was still eying the contents with fascination. Yet, a thought struck him, and his thick eyebrows furrowed together in a moment of bewilderment.

There was still the human. The girl.

Had he been false in his perceptions earlier that morning? Was there only a mutual friendship devised of a hierarchy that both were aware of? He had to be sure. All his plans had to be set in stone. There could be no shadows of doubt lurking in the corner. His plans were all or nothing, and he wanted it all.Silently he rubbed his hands together, as he did so, a small spider like thread appeared, and then another and then another, until there were three of such strands. Tucking his hands behind his back, he moved alongside Sesshoumaru and said in an exhausted voice, "If you will excuse me, Sesshoumaru, I feel very tired. I just returned from an excursion near Edo yesterday, and that has not afforded me much sleep."

The demon said nothing, his eye not even meeting Naraku's emotionless depths.

"But, feel free to look upon anything you want to. Dinner is served at seven, try not to be late."

Sesshoumaru's pale lips formed the words, "Why would I be late?" There was an accusation in the tone, which Naraku was not fond of.

"Well, incase you find yourself enthralled with this," he motioned to the bowl in a wide sweep, "Or incase you walk around the grounds. It truly the best time of year to be doing so."

"Is that so." Sesshoumaru coolly replied, his eyes moving slowly about the room.

Making his way towards the shoji screens, Naraku murmured underneath his breathe, "Show him Rin and my power."

Sesshoumaru, was now staring at the liquid as the image was erased by some hand of god, and did not hear this. The contents began to swirl, faster and faster and faster.

Like before, all was calm, and the image remained. The image of Rin; who was not alone in the forest.

```

The room was opaque with the thick, heavily scented steam that surrounded his body, and enveloped all objects into a dim murky color palate.The glazed tile gleamed a startling shade of blue and green in the flickering lamplight.Reclining his head against the cool surface, Naraku let a gasp of pleasure emit from his lips as the water washed into crevices, its nearly boiling temperature searing his already blackened soul.His dark glossy hair tumbled over his shoulder, its delicate curls plastered in pleasure against his bronzed skin.The curves and contours to his body rippled as he adjusted his position to allow for the girl at his side to better reach the parts she was trying to bring enlightenment. Another voluptuous female flattened her engorged breasts against his skin, and tenderly licked his body over.

This was one of the benefits to his power.

A few moments more of such pleasure continued, gasps, groans, and the musical gushing of the water the only thing heard.Then, Naraku wiping his brow to relinquish the sweat that had formed there, commanded, "Leave me now."

The two bare females gave him a parting gift, and then left the bath.

Smirking to himself as he caught his breath, he licked his lips as though he had just feasted on a fine meal. There was yet another course that he wanted to sample, to test.This was his silver haired guest.It amused him how attracted he was to this youkai, how it was so hard to control his body from reacting in very un-business-like ways.Sesshoumaru was just so…untouched in his untapped resources.He was pure, despite the blood stained past.Sesshoumaru held a power of subtle sensuality that even in its light fragrance overpowered his senses.It was glorious. In addition, Naraku had resolved that once this little war was over, Sesshoumaru would one day his; begging for his touch.

The thought turned him on, damn it.

Trying to clear his head of all such thoughts, although it was rather hard, considering the smell of bodily fluids still surrounded him; he lifted his fingers from out of the water, and as though he was plucking an imaginary _koto _the silver strands of silk appeared.Closing his eyes, he saw the scene materialize about him, and still moving his fingers, he acted the three parts.This would be the test of Sesshoumaru's will.If the lord of the western lands acted in the manner that he supposed, than his task would much easier.The pieces would fall into place.And one day Sesshoumaru would be felt beneath him…his deep voice hoarsely calling…calling…

And the most ingenious part of his plan was:they could never trace it back to him.For, in reality, the people he created did not exist.The yearning for such a thing or fear caused them to take solid form.If such a thought was expected, then out of the depths he could leap—and blood would be spilt, people would scream out in pain for an imaginary figure that terrorized their weak minds. 

The scream of the young human girl rang through his ears…

`````

It was deep afternoon on the mountainside leading towards Naraku's fortress.Everything seemed in muted shades, as though their beauty only survived morning and mid-afternoon, and everything was now retiring for the night.All were closing tightly, hiding from Rin's deep and dark colored eyes.The air had suddenly turned cold as shadows from a passing cloud fell upon the hillside.Quickening her step, her deep eyes moving quickly, like that of a bird, she hastened to the castle.

Perhaps she had stayed too long.

Yet, people from her troublesome past had treated her with such a generosity she could not easily pull away from a part of her that had once been her history.Although such memories stabbed her bitterly at night, they were her comfort during the long days.Only when Sesshoumaru was near did her past seem non-existent, and only the future remained.There had never been a brutal autumn, quiet winter, and a subtle spring.With him, there was only now and tomorrow.

Her elegant from paused suddenly, her ears pricked in apprehension as she gazed about the tumble of the forest, a mixture of dried and dead leaves and small sprigs of grass.The light from the sun had now grown dimmer, and the trees were cast into hazy lavender, the area suddenly cold and ominous.Yet is was not the weakening of the suns light that disturbed her, but the heavy footsteps she could have sworn she heard.All seemed quiet, dull and dark. 

Turning around, she breathed in suddenly, her deep glossy eyes wide in mild fear.Three men stood gazing at her, their hands resting on their own weapon.Their clothes were that of bandits, and the scars visible on a few of their muscled arms only confirmed the fact.Silently Rin prayed that nothing would happen…yet, she was not stupid, and she knew this.These were bandits; and when presented with a young, unarmed innocent girl such as herself, the men would take advantage of the situation.Yet, hope always sprung eternal in her heart…

Nodding slightly to them, an uneasy smile resting on her pretty lips, she continued up the mountain slope.Yet, the footsteps followed, as did their voices.

"Can you believe this girl?Not even saying hello."Mumbled a deep sensual voice that seemed slightly familiar.

"What is the world coming to, eh?"Replied another, his voice a rich tenor.

"I believe that we should show her suitable behavior." Suggested the corporeal voice again.

The third grunted in agreement.Their steps quickened.

`````````

A shriek of fright echoed about the room and bounced off the walls.Sesshoumaru, who had his back turned to the untrustworthy bowl, strode forward, his pupils enlarged in emotion. Grasping the silver rim with his dangerously sharp claws, he leaned forward, and gazed at the scene that lay before him.

A forest area surrounded Rin, crumpled leaves, and freshly budding trees.Yet, her figure was not so easily seen.It lay on the ground; a large figure holding her outstretched arms, another holding her slightly parted legs, and finally, a thin muscular figure straddling her body as he began to undue the folds in her yukata. 

An additional scream, then tears began to roll down her delicate cheeks.

"We're on a fucking mountainside, bitch. No one is going to hear you scream."The slim man smirked, his eyes clouded with passion as he held one of her breasts in his hands, while continuing to fondle it tenderly, "Try to enjoy yourself, won't you?"

Turning harshly, Sessshoumaru sped out of the room, his face expressionless, yet his eyes dangerous and steely in texture. 

He had paused halfway down the mountain slope and listened intently for a second.Her sobs were magnified to intensity, and the trees and shrubs turning indistinct about him, he continued his search, which did not take him long.

The solitary item he remembered was the screams of the three bandits, the ripping of bodies with his claws, and the blood staining his garments and the unsullied grass.Even in the beginning, the blossoming of life, the lust and hatred of blood still called out to his contaminated soul.

The rest of the trip only consisted of the weight of Rin against his back, her subdue gratitude mingling with her tears.Her smooth arms wrapped about his neck, as though clinging to him for support.Yet, soon Rin would recover…by the time they reached the castle for diner, she walked quietly along side him.A companion. 

And when the shoji screen slid open, Naraku's eyes burned in utter triumph.Sesshoumaru had failed his test.Now…the fun would begin.Now the destruction of these lives would begin.

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AN: is it me, or did this chapter seem short? I think its because of all the spaces, but it is just turns up like that! It's not like I mean it, I swear! O__O. 

Yeah, Naraku was pretty nasty, but I dunno…its always fun to write about a highly sexed person…^_^;; heh heh…seriously. I think Naraku is pretty hot, if not evil.Just a misunderstood guy, lust for power…like Macbeth. Poor guy. Anyways, yeah, but Naraku **does** get a lot, dosen't he? Oh well, with power comes privileges.Also…I do like shonen-ai/yaoi…but this fic won't have any really…but I mean, Naraku and Sesshoumaru would be a cute couple as far as looks go.You have the pale and fair (sesshie-chan!!) and the dark and bronze ('ku'-chan!!!)…see? Its like Harry and Draco! It works, darn it.But..don't worry…there will be no pairings with guy/guy stuff…

Also, lack of Inuyasha/Kagome this chapter.I know. Sorry for all you guys, but I decided to look to Sessh again.Next chapter will be…Inuyasha and KIKYOU! *hides behind a crate of tomatoes*I know…you guys hate her. But don't worry, the next chapter is basically a HUDGE flashback explaining relationships ect ect ect…

This is a long authors notes… I guess I feel like talking…June 21 the new Harry Potter book comes out! I am not going to buy it until I get back from France, because if I get it before, I will be all wanting to read it in France…!! O______O;;;; 


	6. a bloodstained embrace

An: wow, this chapter is short…but I figured, hey! Why not, you know?  Exactly!! Yay! Anyways, I don't go into a lot of scene description, because I will be having some flashbacks later on in the story.  There is a flashback later on in this story…but I did not say "flashback" you sort of haft to figure it out. Anyways, yet another chapter of a perverted/lusty Naraku…and a sad Inuyasha. FINALS are OVER! YAY! I am so happy…and I am surprised I still managed to get a chapter out in a week, albeit short…anyways, this chapter is rated PG-13 cause Na-chan and Inu-chan have uhm….very angry dicusssions. Heh heh heh. I tried not to make TOO much Kikyou, because most of you people hate her anyhow (*raises hand in agreement!*  yay!!)

Disclaimers: I don't own Inuyasha…but uhm…if no one had put a trademark on our little hentai naraku—I claim that! Yay!

Note: this was a rather rushed chapter. If there is any spelling/grammar, sorry…I just wanted to get this one done, cause I needed to move on to something more interesting chapter wise. 

Chapter Six: a bloodstained embrace  

The silver haired hanyou sat haphazardly on the porch leaning against an old worn column.  One of his legs dangled over the side, nearly touching the bit of grass and gravel.  His arms were folded quietly in his lap, and only his golden eyes moved.  It was very quiet now.  The amber sun of the afternoon illuminated the irises now growing along side most of the deck, their petals translucent and glowing.  The only murmur of sound was that of the occasional plop or splash from the koi pond…yet besides that, all was silent.

Inuyasha did not really know if he approved of this…he was used to people talking, whether at home, or visiting a dignitary's house.  He was used to the friendly murmur of voices, used to the conversation.  Yet, truthfully, he hated being alone with his thoughts.  He hated having to force himself not to remember the past, and the people and places he had known.

Yet, _she _was not here this afternoon. _She _had abandoned him, and walked down to the village with Miroku.  _She _wanted to escape.

…and he had let her…

And whether or not he was upset by this turn of events, it was hard to say.  Inuyasha would not deny that over the past week their relationship had grown more comfortable, and at times, even pleasant.  There was something pleasing in the girl, in her manner, her way of thinking, and her thirst and hunger for life.  And Inuyasha knew, and was aware, that he could offer her so many things…so many things to make her happy.  And perhaps make him happy as well.

Yet, the shadows from his past always followed him, always remained.  The doubt, and guilt and anger held him closely at night; tighter and more lovingly that Kagome could ever.

He pitied his wife.  He pitied his wife for being unfaithful, for allowing her to believe that there was hope between them—that their life together would, in the end, not be in vain.

Yet, her image always remained, the soft gray eyes always calling out to him in the depth of his dreams.  Now, the whisper of her voice had grown stronger, particularly in these past weeks.  Kikyou had grown vivid, her form more distinct, and his longing for her clouding his vision—all thought, all rationality.

His life, looking back on it, seemed so long. Inuyasha was aware that if human, he would have died at least twenty years ago.  And, he wished he had some days.  His appearance was that of a man, twenty at youngest—and yet he had lived 128 human years.  He had watched friends die, his mother, and his father…and now after all this sorrow that was presented to him, a girl with untainted eyes could not understand the pain he suffered.

Closing his amber eyes, Inuyasha allowed himself to remember his first meeting with the girl that would one day die in his arms…

Sixteen summers ago, he had stumbled upon a valley village located in a central plain, mountains surrounding him on either side.  Inuyasha had just managed to push his brother and the lust for his sword away—but at a great cost.  For days he had been wandering about the wooded hills, surviving on his wits, and the occasional strength he could muster.  His brother's wounds had been deep, as was the grudge Inuyasha now held against him.

On the night of the new moon, he lost all his strength, and stumbled bleakly down the slippery slopes of the mountainside, half conscious.  Finally, he had come to rest at the edge of a pool, half his body submerged in its clear depths.  Inuyasha had not wished death.  Yet, the option was eminent if he lay there.  Inuyasha was aware that he had no friends or companions in this vicinity—there were only the weak and repugnant demons…

How vividly he remembered looking up into the star filled sky and wondering if he would see tomorrow dawn.

And tomorrow had dawned, and with the first rays of sunlight came the first steps of her light tred.  Bleakly he had opened his eyes to gaze at a figure illuminated by sun, and almost as soon as they had opened the blackness surrounded him, after a long and cold night.

Inyasha remembered awakening to the smells of something cooking, along with the sounds of people moving objects about.  Before he could move a muscle a warm voice greeted, "Oh. So you're awake finally."

Grunting slightly, and pushing himself to a sitting position he croaked groggily, "Where am I?"

Glancing about the small hut he found a young girl watching him from across the hearth, her large black eyes gleaming with knowledge.  To her right sat a young woman, in that of a priestesses attire, her strait raven hair tied back, except for two long strands that would not obey.  Her gray eyes glanced towards his figure, and they smiled, gently, with merriment, "I wonder who did that to you…it could not have been any demon from around here."

Nodding dumbly, he found himself replying, "No, the demon's around here are weaklings."

The young woman said nothing, but instead ladled out some rice porridge into a wooden bowl, "Here," she offered, extending her hand, "Eat this…you body has been through a lot. It is better to eat nothing heavy."

Taking the worn bowl and placing it in his lap, Inuyasha continued to study the girl for a moment longer, until her intense powerful gaze caused him to turn away in embarrassment.

This had been the first encounter he had with a female human.  It had been years since he had ever spent such a long amount of time with one.  It felt strange and unnerving.  It caused his heart to quicken. 

When it came to Kikyou, Inuyasha realized, there were certain scenes he remembered better than others. The first month in her residence had been tense, and moody…there always seemed something he did wrong, or it was his attitude which put a damper on the whole situation.  Yet, by the end of that early summer month, he found the prospect of leaving gloomy. For so long his life had been predictable, and now, suddenly, he felt rather content.

And, there was something so comforting in Kikyou that without becoming aware the rainy season slipped by and only the heat of the late summer remained.

It was on one late summer evening that Kikyou and Inuyasha had found themselves alone, walking across the rice fields towards the forest that her house bordered on.  Kikyou was laughing about something Inuyasha had just said, her delicate lips turned upwards in amusement, her eyes dancing with merriment in the golden light.

"What?"  Inuyasha barked playfully, "It wasn't that funny."

Bringing her smooth fingers to her lips to try to hide her teeth, she giggled, "Yes, but the way you said it made it that way."

A flush came to Inuyasha's cheek, and wrenching his head towards the sky he mumbled, "I am glad you find me so amusing."

The two walked in silence for a bit longer, their footsteps the only sound in this darkening hour.  As the sun sank deeper and deeper onto the horizon, the first faint glow of the fireflies appeared, dancing gaily about the miko and the hanyou.

"Damn flies."  Inuyasha grumbled, swishing at them.

A warm sensation overtook him, and suddenly he was aware of fingers intertwining between his claws.  Staring at Kikyou in amazement, he was rather startled to see a thin wash of blush against her cheek.

"Kikyou…" he breathed gently, gazing at her flawless face that lay before him.  How beautiful she looked at this moment, her gentle smile, and the flush in her cheeks, her deep dark eyes gazing into his own.  Inuyasha was aware of so many feelings washing over his body—emotions he had never felt.  It was as though he was an innocent child, gazing at these actions in astonishment and curiosity.  Yet, this was not to say he did not like the physical feelings and desires he was accumulating.  No, quite the opposite.

The sun had now set behind the nearby hills, yet the sky remained, washed in gold's and lavenders.  

"Lets…" Kikyou smiled gently, "Sit over here."

The two walked towards the edge of a small stream used to feed the fields with fresh water, and sat by its grassy banks.  Surrounding them, the fireflies danced lazily above the placid surface of the water, as though they were waltzing with their reflection.

The two had kissed, then, a deep long passionate kiss.  A kiss that would bring many more. Their fates and hearts intertwined like their hands moving sensually against the partners body..  A darkness had melted from Inuyasha's heart, and that evening, the miko had become his.  Kikyou's smile, her body, her heart…all she had offered.  

Blinking back tears, suddenly Inuyasha was aware of the time.  Wiping his bleary eyes hurriedly with his sleeve, he decided to take a walk through the gardens.  It had been years since he had thought that vividly of his past; thought of her beautiful rich voice—and it tortured him.  It slashed at him without mercy.

Taking quick strides he tried to calm his rapid breathe.  One step farther into that reverie, and her bloodied figure would cloud his vision.  Kikyou was dead.  There was no use in hoping otherwise…

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Smirking to himself, he poured Sesshoumaru a saucer of Sake, and then his own cup.  The lord of the western land reclined against a pillar, looking out at the dark night's view.  The demon's amber eyes seemed almost consumed by the murky quality of his pupils, his lips expressionless, as they always were.  A gentle breeze from the east ruffled the silver hair of the demon, causing it to fall gracefully onto his pale skin.  Things began in the east.

How much Sesshoumaru tempted him…

"May I inquire," Naraku began, lounging against a satin pillow, "How it is that you and Inuyasha have had this seasonal war for these past years?"

Of course, Naraku knew the reason already.  Sesshoumaru and Inuyasha were both gloriously in the dark about the whole affair.  Neither had not an inkling that he, Naraku, was the cause of their bloody war—that in the end, neither of the brothers would get their desired objects, neither would find life, or love, or happiness.  All profits Naraku would reap…

"My brother is under the impression that I killed his human wench."  Sesshoumaru replied coldly, sipping the mild Sake.

"You mean to say that, Inuyasha had someone else before he was married?"  Naraku questioned archly, arranging his features into one of mild distress.

"Yes."  Sesshoumaru hissed, "The bastard still remains untrue to that who he is legally bound to.  But…" Sesshoumaru paused, turning his gaze towards the dark haired figure, "But he is whom he is.  He only suits the position he was born into.  Only half worthy of anything."

The sound of a bird in the forest was heard singing a sweet, sad song above the trees.

"Harsh words, indeed."  Naraku confided softly, his eyes glazing over Sesshoumaru's abdomen and traveling down the length of the perfectly sculpted body.

"He deserves harshness."  Sesshoumaru spat bitterly as he placed the ceramic cup down, and hoisted himself off the bench.  Moving swiftly, he made his way from the pagoda towards the main house that now lay in darkness.

"Hmm…perhaps you deserve someone being _harsh _to you as well…" Naraku murmured, licking his lips self-consciously.  A grin blessed his features, and a deep chuckle came from his thick lips.  It was all going along so wonderfully…so perfectly…

The seeds he had sewn so many years ago were finally beginning their bloom—and soon, he would taste the sweet sticky fruits of victory, presented by Sesshoumaru.  Yet, it was not only Sesshoumaru he would get to taste and sample… there would be Inuyasha, and his wench, _Kagome._

It amused Naraku that Sesshoumaru, one of the most well thought of person (demon or human alike) would not be able to figure out the mystery to his brother's lover's death.  He had more faith in that silver haired snack than that.

Stretching his shoulders slightly, he closed his eyes, a smirk plaguing his features, as he remembered how so many years ago, he had, like an expert spider, woven this web of confusion and deceit.

 In the spring sixteen summers ago, Naraku had disappeared from the dark and damp cave, which the miko had been so gracious to supply him.  In the transition of the seasons, he had spent most of his time traveling about the main islands, acquiring friends, and favors to put to later use. Yet, he spent most of the time in the forest, allowing other weak and pathetic demons to enter into his body, giving him strength beyond his wildest expectations.  Naraku would admit his beginnings were humble—yet, look at where he lay now!   That spring, he had been a crumple of rotting flesh, hardly able to move, the only thing in his body that was active happened to he his brain.

While traveling the roads and sandy pathways, Naraku had heard the two demon brothers…There was Sesshoumaru, the ruler of the western lands, who was fair and trustworthy (if not emotionless and cold-blooded).  Sesshoumaru's only desire it seemed was the sword that his younger brother possessed, a sword with magnificent strength—the strength to kill nearly 200 demons, when used properly. This ruler, however, had been presented with kin to the sword, its making the same, though intent different. 

And then, there was the younger brother who was the ruler of the eastern lands, and took pride in all that he reigned.  However, often he was absent from his fortress, making it difficult for Sesshoumaru to track him down and possess the jewel that glinted maliciously in front of his eyes.

Naraku had returned to the small town where he had first begun early in the summer, to claim his miko, and win her over.  His looks had transformed in the past months, from that of a heaping pile of flesh, to a handsome man—which few, as he had become aware of, could resist.

It was fate that he should decide to return to this town.  For no sooner had he stopped to acquire favors and friends that he heard the news.  The news that their precious miko had fallen in love with lord Inuyasha  was the towns gossip!  Nothing besides these two names did they speak, whether in mock, or favoritism.  

"Oh, really?  Who is this Inuyasha?"

"Haven't you heard?  He rules the eastern lands, and has in his possession a most fearsome sword."

"—for a hanyou, he is very handsome."

"I have not seen the gentleman.  What does he look like?"

"He has long silver hair—"

"—and golden eyes!"

"But you are very handsome as well, sir."

"You are too kind."

It was so very perfect.  

After spending one night in that town, and helping a young girl loose her virginity, he had begun to concoct his plan. 

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The figure hugged the darkness tenderly; its soft luxurious hair spread about him, as he idly lit a cigarette and inhaled its smoky flavor.  The red-hot glow was the only light in the room, not even the sky was blessed with the moon glow this night…That silver orb was absent from earth, hidden by its own shadows, as was this person sprawled in the hotel room.  Hoisting himself from the rough fabric, the figure walked over to a chest of drawers and withdrew a folded piece of paper.  Carefully, he opened it, his dark eyes reading over its contents.  Smiling sickly, he tucked it carefully among the folds of fabric, and left the room and out into the warm summers night.

The grass seemed to flatten itself against the earth, as though trying to skirt away from his touch.  All was quiet, trying not to draw attention to their form.  None wanted those dark eyes to gaze at them, to decide their fate…none wanted to feel his wrath.

Naraku, the keeper of such a gaze, thought silently to himself, _It is all so perfect…_

And indeed it was.

Tonight was the night of the new moon.  This, of course, meant that Inuyasha would seek refuge alone in the woods, carefully trying not to draw vengeful demons to the shrine where his lover lived.  He would only emerge from is cave at dawn, where, if all went correctly, he would find his brother delivering the final blow to his bitch.

It was so brilliant.

A rosy haze began to wash over the sky, and hurrying his steps, he made his way towards the shrine.   The figure who stepped upon the sacred steps was no longer Naraku, the man who gave his heart to darkness, instead he had transformed into the handsome Sesshoumaru, the lord of the western lands.  All was perfect, down to the embroidery of his underguarments.  Once in passing, he had studied the lord of the western land as he made his way down a street.  He parted the crowd, his only partner a small toad demon. 

He found the girl sweeping the steps, and calling out to her gently, he asked if he could discuss donating a quantity of money to the shrine.  Kikyou glanced up at him nervously, her eyes momentarily squinting, as though she was trying to discern something false in his appearance.  Yet, he was flawless. 

"Who are you?"  the gentle voice asked, as she placed down her broom, and stepped cautiously forward, "You look familiar…"

Gazing at her sternly in the eyes, the eyes he wanted to call his own, he replied, "I have an infamous half brother.  If your village has been recently terrorized, it is most likely by him.  Only idiots are capable of such damage."

The female laughed gently, and stepped bravely forward. "Well, let us talk then.  I know of this brother that you speak of."

The two were now walking along a small path, with rice crops surrounding them on either side.  The dark brown water remained still and silent, as though it could tell something fowl would soon happen.

"Kikyou…" Naraku began, running a finger though his silver hair and stepping closer to her frame.

The beautiful form turned round, a slight smile resting on her features.  "Yes?"

It was now the moment of truth, and there could be no regrets in his action.  Stepping forward, and gazing down into those innocent, yet strangely brave gray eyes, he almost faltered slightly as he withdrew his razor sharp claws.  Her face was washed in a delicate blue light of dawn, highlighting her moonlight colored skin.  Her eyes grew wide. 

There was a sudden, horrible sound—and the smile slowly began to fall from her lips.  Large tears welled up in her courageous gray eyes,, she questioned hoarsely, "Why?"  A fleck of blood appeared on her red lips.

Her pristine beauty that of white now matched the scarlet color of her hakama.  The two blended, creating a woman of sin and deceit. Her eyes were now glazed over, as though something beyond his vision called out to her.  Her once flushed lips had now turned pale, her skin transparent in the growing light of day.  Finally, her body went limp, and leaning forward he delicately kissed the girl.  Yet, it would not be too long, for soon they would meet again.  Soon she would rise from her grave, an ally at his side, unaware that she was conspiring with her own enemy.

A rustle of leaves caused Naraku to cradle the limp body of the young priestess, and gazing into the forest he saw a dark haired figure emerged, his cloak like that of his blood stained claws.  The two faced each other, their eyes a mixture of excitement, and fear.

The human form of Inuyasha paused for a second, his body taught, his large black eyes taking in his brother's form, and then the figure cloaked in blood.

"Who…?"  Inuyasha began quietly, wondering if it was a local village girl his brother had taken vengeance on.  Stepping closer, his breath caught in his throat, and his eyes became great and glossy.  Kikyou's face had been revealed; cold and nearly lifeless, its expression one of utter betrayal.

He began to shake, as though a mighty wind was trying to strike him down, and he continued this a few seconds, before anger and rage polluted his eyes.

"You bastard…" he breathed icily, stepping forward, his steps quickening, his body shaking still.

"What? You knew this bitch?"  Naraku replied smoothly, allowing her body to fall into the muddied waters below, her white skin now flecked with the earth in which she would rest.

"You bastard!!"  Inuyasha snarled, rushing forward, painfully unaware that he was still a human, and powerless against Naraku or Sesshoumaru.

A glowing whip appeared in Naraku's clawed fingers, and snapping it in distain he slashed at the oncoming figure.  A shout of despair and pain was heard, and blood trickled from Inuyasha's arm and face.  Yet, his eyes held determination still.

"You will regret this, you son of a bitch."  Inuyasha hissed, trying to stand.

"You are the son of a bitch, and a repugnant mark on this family.  By choosing a human as your mate you only lower you even more."  Sesshoumaru, or rather Naraku, replied smoothly, his whip disintegrating.  

The silver haired demon stepped towards his brothers shuddering frame, and in almost a tender embrace he touched his brothers bleeding cheek. "I do this for your own good.  One day you will understand."

Inuyasha said nothing, his dark eyes traveling down to his murdered lover.

Touching the bloodied cheek of Inuyasha he brought the finger to his lips, and licked them in enjoyment. Turning sharply as the first rays of morning light entered the valley, he whispered, "Until we meet again…"

A swirl of air surrounded the demon's retreating figure, and he was gone…

As the first light of dawn touched Inuyasha's form, the familiar sensation of power overwhelmed him his body returned to his usual form.  Rushing to Kikyou's side, he sank into the mud, and cried without mercy onto her still warm body. 


	7. a destination away from uncertainty

An: you guys made it clear you didn't like flashbacks. (okay, okay, maybe I am stretching the truth a *bit*; I DIDN'T like flashbacks. I didn't like Kikyou….) Anyways…this chapter shall be interesting. ^_^; heh heh heh…uh…..oh! By the by…I need to learn how to actually write some…more…_mature_ stuff…so if there is _more_ sexual references in chapters, just pretend that they aren't there! But dun worry, there is _nothing_ (hopefully…^^;;;) that will change this to an R fic.

Question: hey, who here thinks Naraku/Sesshoumaru is a good couple?  Who would be thoroughly disgusted if I even thought of writing it?  Come out of the closet, you yaoi fans! ^_~; or not…whichever you prefer. But no worries, this chapter is STRICTLY Inu/Kag… 

Chapter Seven:  A Destination Away From Uncertainty

He had dreamed of her that night. Dreamed of her long lustrous hair, glinting in the silvery light of the full moon. Her eyes had beckoned him to her side, tempting him with hidden depths and mysteries he would never know. The dark, almost midnight blue of their color, entranced him as he traced the silky contours of her bare body with his hands. She had called out to him that evening, called out with a love and a desire that she bore. How willingly he had become one with her; how willingly he sunk into her tender embrace, how willingly he had kissed her lips. The dream had been bliss…

Then, he woke up. Woke up to the cold that surrounded him; the wintry chill still present in the early spring nights. He had awoken to nobody at his side, no body urging him into the world of desires and fantasies. He had awoken alone in a dark room.

It took him hours ,it seemed, to fall into a dreamless sleep, hours in which her body and beckoning eyes called out to him from across the thin rice paper barrier. It had been torture knowing that behind the screen, she lay. Waiting.

By the time Inuyasha groggily pulled himself out of sleep, the dream of Kagome and the love they shared had vanished silently. There was only a vague apprehension that he had not slept well for _some _reason. The cause behind this did not irk him…for he was used to such light and troubled sleep. It was only rarely that he allowed himself the delicacy of a truly restful night.

Upon waking, it dawned upon him that it was the day of his departure to Edo, and then following that, visiting a few prefectures near Hokkaido. He would be gone for a month, perhaps two. Inuyasha told himself that he was pleased about these turn of events. He told himself that by leaving this castle, he would be closer to his goal of defeating his brother. He told himself these things…despite the pit in his stomach.

It was not as though he _wanted _to stay. It was just…things were quieter, lazier, more subdue, rather than the pounding of the blood through him in the outside world. Inuyasha enjoyed the time he spent with Miroku, and even on occasion, his wife. Yet, he did not love her. She was attractive, yes. She ignited something in him; yes. Did Kikyou mean nothing, however? Did her death mean that years later he could marry another? Inuyasha did not believe so. Until Sesshoumaru had paid for the anguish and death he had caused, Inuyasha would not allow himself to be tempted by Kagome and her innocent ways. He would not.

After soaking in the tub for an hour, and thoroughly cooking himself, Inuyasha informed the servants to prepare for his departure. Miroku was conspicuously absent, as well as Kagome.  Waiting a few moments, calling for them, and idling inspecting the progress of the servants, he conceded.  Heaving a sigh of anger and irritation, Inuyasha began to inquire of their whereabouts.

The lord had failed to notice the rich quality of the day. The wide brilliantly blue sky, and the wispy clouds that randomly splattered over its canvas. Like that of a spider web, their material was transparent, allowing a hazy sort of glow to settle upon the village. 

Earlier in the faint beginnings of morning, the valley had been draped in a layer of low-lying fog. The ground consisted of a swirling steam, hanging so quietly, and so deathlike around each blade of grass, or unopened flower. As the day had progressed, and the gold radiant sun had touched each surface, the fog diminished and fled into the woods, where it would only haunt deep and dark caves.

By midmorning, the day had turned fair, a slight breeze being blown in from the sea, and large luminous clouds from the past storm still skimming overheard. The air was pleasantly warm, and smelled like the blossoms that were slowly beginning to daintily peak curiously around each boulder, or dance in-between the large grass.

Two figures walked down a slopping hill, down into the valley that served as a flood plain, when the river was swollen. Now, only a sea of grass existed, waves breaking against their legs. 

The first of the two figures, walking a little farther ahead, was that of a female. In her hand, she held a long and stylish bow. And wound about her breast, a small quiver resided on her back, filled with a number of arrows. The girls' features were a mixture between spring and autumn. The new battling for control of the traditional. Her skin was that of moonlight on a lonely autumn night, yet her eyes shone with all the brilliancy of a spring day. The girl now opened her mouth, and called behind her, "Miroku-san, we do have to hurry. _He _will get suspicious."

"What are you implying, my dear lady?" Came a rich, if not sarcastic voice of the follower. The man was handsome in his good looks, carrying a worn and dedicated appearance for that of one so young and so well built. He carried in his hand loosely woven sack, in which apples clunked cheerily.

"What time are you expected to leave?" Kagome asked, planting her feet in the earth as though she had taken root.

"Midmorning. About Eleven, I suppose." Miroku chuckled, as he too stopped at the remains of a fence, and gingerly withdrew an apple from the sack.

"Eleven? But its ten forty five right now!" The girl exclaimed, her expression one of shock and amusement mixed into one another.

"Oh, who cares? I don't particularly want to leave. Of all my years in service to Inuyasha, I have never once seen his valley bloom. Its rather sad, really."

Nodding in agreement, "Yes, that is rather sad."

There was a long pause, and a great wind raced merrily across the green sea.

"Well," Kagome chirped, clapping her hands together, "We should hurry up."

"I suppose we should. I would like to see if you archery is as good as you boast." Miroku smirked, as he settled himself in the grass. 

"Its not as good as I boast. It's a good as _you _bet." Kagome grinned smuggling,"I wouldn't have done this, if you hadn't promised me my freedom."

"Yes, and if you are as good as your word, and can split twenty apples in half, then I shall work on my lord night and day, until he finally gives in." Miroku replied, idling picking flowers, and chewing on its petals.  

Kagome gazed quietly at the reclined advisor, her eyes following the flower from the mouth to his ground.  Stepping forward, the long grass rustling slightly, she knelt down by his side, gazing at him intently.  There was something deep and dark in her eyes.  A pleading look, almost. Miroku had stopped chewing, and was gazing rather startled at the girl.  He was so surprised by her almost intimate actions that he could not think of anything terribly perverted to do.  Instead, he gazed at her, his eyes questioning, their deep brown depths filled with anxiety and curiosity.

"Do you promise?"  Kagome whispered, her eyes turning glossy, as though tears would soon spill down her cheeks.

"Yes."  He replied in turn, "I promise."

Gently washing away the tears that formed at her eyes, and then gingerly patting her on the head, he repeated, "I promise you.  You are just like a caged bird." A sad smile came from Kagome, but soon it brightened, and standing up with a newfound strength, she kicked up some grass at Miroku, and exclaimed, "You better, because remember, I am an expert archer."

Nodding, and returning to eating flower petals (he actually had found a marigold) he sighed, and arranged his body comfortably and watched Kagome's performance unfold.  A slim arm reached quickly behind her shoulder, and withdrawing an array, positioned in-between her pointer and middle finger, she slipped it onto the string of the bow.  Slowly she lifted it up, her deep eyes narrowing into slivers.

A wisp of air was sliced.

After that first arrow, a flush came to her cheeks; a healthy look swam into her body.  And as the apple fell sliced down the middle to the earth, an image Miroku had never expected was presented to him: a beautiful lady, crying silently in joy, for reasons he would never know.

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He had not expected them outside beyond the fortress walls.  Scanning the landscape, the sloping hills, the surrounding mountains, the broad plain, the smooth river…he had _not _expected to see her again.  Like a spirit kissing Miroku's cheek, she had been born for a second time.

_Kikyou…_

She knelt down by Miroku's side, a smile resting quietly on her lips, a graceful smile he remembered so well.  Although he could not hear her words, her mouth moved with the hypnotic quality he remembered it to.  Her eyes still squinted in the same attractive way; her hair still caught the breeze and danced about her face.  Tears had formed in his eyes, tears that he could not allow himself to blink and wipe away.  For soon, he realized, this image, this yearning, this dream would be gone.  Soon reality would come and hit him with the brute force as it once had.  Soon he would fall from this grace.

And yet he did not.

The dream continued…continued to torture him, continued to unlock doors he wished to remain in peace forever.  In the same perfect refinement, in the identical skill, the equal breathtaking quality of the girl he had loved so many years ago.  One by one by one, she fired her bow, and one by one, the two halves to the whole fell separated in the grass.  He could not look away…he had to feel her; he had to touch her as he had once done a great many years ago.  He wanted to feel himself inside her, feel the love they had shared, he wanted all that was lost to be found.  Stepping hesitantly down the hillside, and then increasing momentum he arrived at this visions side as she lowered her bow, and the twentieth apple fell in the grass.  Miroku perched up, "My Lord…I—" dripping off his lips, his eyes alert and confused.  Yet, Inuyasha over looked his companion, and rushed to her side, his hope creating a delusion.  

"Kikyou…" Inuyasha exclaimed softly, nearing the figure.  The girl did not reply, her eyes large and brave as they once were.  Filled with a sadness and hope he remembered.  Extending his hand, he touched her skin.  It was as though an explosion went off inside his mind, the feeling of his hand against her cool cheek. Senses were aroused; love had blossomed from the winter chill.  Stepping forward, with dismay for all who saw, he wrapped his arms about her slim frame, repeating her name repeatedly.

"Inu…yasha…?"  She questioned curiously, her voice disbelieving.  Indeed, he could not believe her subsistence—yet here she was.  Here he was embracing her…

"I missed you so much…so much…" he managed to gasp terribly, his body trembling in happiness.

"Inuyasha," the voice began, "I am not Kikyou…I am _Kagome_…" she paused, his defeat resting on her final words, "…your wife."

```````````

Standing in the courtyard and moving nervously from side to side, Kagome watched, as the horses were loaded with foodstuff and supplies for the trip to Edo. It was nearly noon, and the sun had been momentarily cast behind a cloud, although in other area's of the valley it still shone gloriously. Perhaps the gods knew there was something dark and mysterious here as well. A sharp cold wind from the north had sprung down upon their backs, and there was word of a storm approaching.

"Hurry the hell up!" Barked their lord as he appeared on the scene, as though he had just appeared by magic. "We should have left at dawn!"   
  
The servants made no reply, but instead moved faster, their bodies beginning to glisten with sweat.

"Is there something I can do?" Questioned Kagome towards an oncoming Yuki, whose arms were filled with the leather reins.

"No, we are nearly finished. Three day journey to Edo, if that." She confided. Her large dark eyes swiveled to her hanyou lord. "He is watching you."

Kagome tried not to look towards whom the conversation was directed, but instead she sighed, "I know…I think he is embarrassed, or something." Running her long fingers through her hair she admitted, "He mistook me for someone else."

Yuki nodded, and although she wanted to talk longer with her later, this privileged was not allowed. She had to prepare her lord for his journey. And so, bowing quickly, she left Kagome's side and headed in the direction of the large dapple-gray horses.

Considering that she could retire into her chambers for the rest of the day, she decided to stay out and amongst the commotion for as long as possible. Soon her life would revert back to normal, and there would be no archery, there would be no long and rather pointless conversations, there would be no walks to the villages…there would be her, the lady of the land, alone in her gilded cage.

Gazing about the courtyard, distinctly trying not to notice Inuyasha's penetrating glare, she found Miroku idly eating an apple as he watched the servants conclude the journey's needs.

Hurrying to his side, she pressed his arm and gazed up at him in that same way she had done earlier. A serious look of hope and sadness. "Remember your promise."

Miroku gazed down at her, almost tenderly, and he replied, "Of course I will remember. Just don't do anything too rash. Please. Inuyasha likes to think he is in control about everything…"

"Unfortunately," continued Kagome, a grin spreading about her exquisite face, "This is usually not the case."

"Precisely." Agreed Miroku, tossing the core over his shoulder, his other hand looking for a curve in Kagome's body he could possibly squeeze or touch.

"What the hell do you think your doing!?" Kagome sputtered, a flush coming to her cheeks, her arms flailing about her. There was a loud slap, and Miroku gingerly touched his cheek, "…I-itai…"

"Serves you right, you hormone driven boy." Fumed Kagome irritably, even more aware of her husbands glares (now having turned into ones of death). 

Leaving Miroku's side, after giving him a hurried goodbye, she left through the side gate and into the vegetable garden (conspicuously away from all public eye). She would have enjoyed standing out amongst the commotion and the action—yet _he_ was there, his presence like a cloud covering the sun on a summer day. He stood there, his golden eyes narrowing with undulating at each motion she took. She could feel that with each breath she inhaled, with each blink of the eye—he inspected her every move. As though she was his.

She was nobody's…at least not at the moment…

Kagome, sitting down on a large rock, rested her head in her hands and pondered the whole situation and relationship of coming to this house earlier in the winter. It was disgusting how comfortable she had become to this pavilion, how thoughts of another world hardly troubled her as they had once had. She was becoming domesticated.

And perhaps, she argued, if she had loved her husband, if they had been close, if there was a mutual respect—than perhaps things would be peaceful. Perhaps she would allow her life to continue is such a way.

Yet she was not even twenty, and already she acted like a thirty-five year old. She disgusted even herself. 

Glancing up suddenly at Inuyasha's voice drifting from across the other side of the fence, she dusted off her attire and dutifully (like the good wife, she supposedly was) went to wish him farewell.

A few second's more and they would have been beyond her reach. They would have kicked the horse in their sides and headed off towards the road that beckoned to her flighty spirit as well.

Yet, their eyes met, his feet frozen at the dapple-gray horses side. His frame was motionless, his eyes an amber colored storm of confusion, and anticipation, and emotions that Kagome could not even conjure.

Walking up to the horses' side, she gazed up and said meekly, "Have a good journey."  

_I missed you so much…Kikyou…___

He said nothing, but instead nodded, and suddenly very interested in the horse, kicked its sides and leapt off. 

_…if only she had been missed….___

Miroku gave Kagome one last wistful and slightly amused glance, before he followed suit behind his master, and made their way to the Edo. 

It was not until an hour later that Kagome found herself thinking about how handsome and striking her husband looked, seated upon the horse, the cold north wind blowing his silver strands of hair…but digesting this thought, she realized that this could not be.  She could not be attracted to Inuyasha.  It was impossible. 

````````````

AN: heh heh heh. Like this chapter? I found it rather dull myself…yeah…*sighs* but I gotta do what I gotta do.  Next chapter:  Inuyasha travels to Edo, with Kagome resting on his mind.  There, Miroku begins to persuade Inuyasha to let her accompany them on the tour.  Also, Inuyasha and Miroku befriend a young general named Kai, who's master resides in the Yamanashi prefecture…

Kagome on the other hand spends her life at Inuyasha's fortress until a distressing letter calls her away, and right into the hands of the enemy.  New characters introduced. ^_^;; sorry for lack of Sesshoumaru…but you all needed a break anyhow. Heh heh heh heh.

Yeah, so, join ME, cappie, next time for another exciting adventure of love, betrayal, passion, and action innnnnnnnn: SASS! 

Btw: sorry for lack of spelling/grammar


	8. a cry from afar

AN: hey all! Wow, thanks for all the reviews!  Anyways, this chapter (yes, to all your disappointment) does not seem to have much waff, or romance, ect ect ect.  However, in my opinion, this is not to say its boring.  Actually, I find the more dialog there is—the more interesting my stories are.  This chapter has a lot of dialog. Also, incase you become confused later on, I am creating these 'convenient' inns that IY and Miroku stay at to have a "first story: restaurant/bar" and "second story: beds, yadda yadda."  So, if in one sentence I refer to it as an inn, and then a moment later I call it "a restaurant" than you will understand why.

Also, a bunch more characters will be introduced in this chapter.  Two, I have had to make up due to the nature and time frame of this story, but…Kaede comes in.  Remember, it has not been 50 years, so in this story…Kaede is about 24-26 years old. I know, who would have thought, ne?  I imagine Kaede (when young) has very straightforward, frank, and aware of her sexual appeal.  However, obviously, as a person ages, they loose the latter part of this. Oh well, I will stop explaining and let you READ!  

Chapter Eight: A Cry From Afar

"A bit more…a _bit _more," a pause, "perfect…"

Miroku gave a pleased sort of look as he gazed down at his cup of Sake, its depths almost clear. Glancing up at his companion, he found that the familiar look still etched into his features. It was a look of annoyance, and longing. Miroku played the fool about this whole episode, but he knew what was on his lord's mind: it was none other than his new bride, Kagome.

"Do you want some, Inuyasha?" Miroku questioned, dangling the container in front of his face, "Its very good. It leaves a nice sensation going down the throat."

Inuyasha said nothing, and continued to gaze off into space. 

"Lingering, but not overly thick…" Miroku continued obliviously.

Inuyasha insisted that it was not as though he _liked_ Kagome, she was just…_odd. _At times she could be so sweet, and perfect and beautiful—and then at other times she was a strong willed girl who could and would not take 'no' for an answer. He didn't want to say this intrigued him…but…

"Damn it." He muttered moodily, stretching his shoulders from their cramped position. "Why the hell am I thinking about _her _for? I should be planning my next attack."

Miroku tossed him a map from within his shoulder satchel, and said, "Alright, you do that. I'll continue to drink."

Suddenly, the idea seemed very unappealing. Figuring out the locations, and mountain passes to use, the best routes, the most indirect routes, what weapons would be good from certain firing distances…it all seemed so tedious.

"I said _should, _not _would_ Miroku."  Inuyasha grumbled grabbing the Sake container and pouring himself a glass.  Washing it down in one gulp, he quickly poured himself another, grumbling something about 'dumb girls'.

The sun had begun to set in Maebashi, about one third of the way on the journey to Edo.  Considering the terrain and the late start, the two had made good time.  It was expected that they would reach Edo in two days.  The two had decided to stay in a local inn that night—Inuyasha seeming to have had _enough_ of being cooped up in the presence of his wife.

The two ordered sukiyaki and while waiting for the meal to arrived contented their tired and troubled souls over the music of the shamisen.  It was a quiet sort of melody, the notes plucked slowly at long intervals.  After a time the two grew sleepy, the warm Sake having entered their blood, and the pleasant murmur of the inn plaguing at their wearied senses.

"Oi, Miroku…" Inuyasha began groggily, scratching his cheek slightly.

"What?"  Asked Miroku, more awake than Inuyasha, his dark brown eyes gazing about the room.  Inuyasha seemed unaware that his companion's form had been tense for a few minutes now.

"Have you heard of…" Inuyasha paused, a momentarily look of confusion resting on his lips, "Have you heard of a new warlord having risen to great power lately?"

There was a pause, and Miroku turned and glanced towards his friends.  His eyes were serious, his mouth down turned, "I have heard of a dark power rising, yes.  I have heard that he is ruthless and will stop at nothing to claim victory."

"Do you think this could be my bro—Sesshoumaru?"  Inuyasha faltered, slightly more awake now, as the food having been served by an attractive peasant girl. 

Grabbing a set of chopsticks and sipping on the tea Miroku thought about this for a long period, his eyes dancing about the room to one figure in particular, "I do not think so, no."

Inuyasha gazed at his friend, waiting for him to continue.

"You may hate your brother, yes. But he was brought up with good standards, despite what you may believe.  Sesshoumaru knows the rules of war, he knows its art, and he would not cross these readily."

"But, he's just so bloodthirsty! And…he killed _her_!" Inuyasha spat in disdain, his hands crashing down onto the table in a fit of fury.

The people glanced up, their eyes for the first time noticing the silver color of his hair, and the amber depths of his eyes.  There own dark eyes inspected him, not disapprovingly, nor angrily; simply blankly, as though they could not judge whether or not this creature deserved scorn or approval.

After a moment, they all turned back to their meal, or their company, or listening to the sad willful notes of the shamisen.  The murmur of voices continued, and the waitresses continued to flight from each table as though they had been transformed into struggling butterflies flying to each dying flower.

"Hmm," murmured Miroku, bringing his hand to his mouth, and rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "With the experience I have had with Sesshoumaru for many years I would have never thought of him as…that ruthless.  I never got the impression that he actually _cared _what you did, as long as he got _your _sword."

"Do you doubt my word?" Inuyasha asked truthfully, his voice dangerously low, his eyes glinting like black beetles in the dim lamplight.

"No, I don't."  Confided Miroku.  He sipped the tea again, and ate his sukiyaki quietly for a moment.  

A period of five minutes or so slipped away never to be regained.

"I believe," began Miroku finally, heaving a sigh, "That all shall become clearer once we reach Edo."

Inuyasha glanced up, his eyes sliding towards a figure located across the room.  He had just become aware that for some time now this form had been studying them intently, the glance not one of friendliness.

"Miroku, do you notice…" Inuyasha began after a moment.

"I have been aware of him since he first entered.  Hopefully, he will not stay."  Miroku acknowledged, closing his eyes as he began to sip the broth of the miso soup on his left.

"But how—" Inuyasha snorted, coughing slightly as he gulped down some tea he had just poured.

"Remember, my family is a known lineage of monks.  Certain…_traits _are passed down with each generation."  Miroku smirked knowingly, eying the waitress's breasts in a look of anticipation.

The figure moved, and then an instant later slipped through the entrance.  Perhaps all that had been visible to Miroku and Inuyasha was the strait wave of deep black hair that extended down to the waist. 

Inuyasha sipped his broth as well, and then chewed on the tofu for a moment.  Another few moments slipped away.

"Inuyasha," Miroku began earnestly, "I think we should allow your wife, Kagome, to accompany us on this tour.  It should not be too dangerous.  By the time the rainy seasons come she will once again be safe at your fortress."

Meeting Inuyasha's weary amber eyes, he heard a tired sigh, and then, "Not yet."

_although…perhaps later…?  _Miroku guessed inaudibly. 

`````````

At nights, she would awake to find his golden eyes glancing at her from across a foggy field.  She could hear a tender quality to his voice she had never imagined.  It was torture. Kagome lay quietly beneath her covers waiting for it all to disappear like the mists of dawn; like the frost when it met the morning sun.  Nevertheless, it would not.  Even with the dreams, her opinion of him did not alter.  Kagome was determined to hate her husband; her husband who abandoned her to this house, her husband who loved another, her husband who only looked upon her well-being.  It was not possible for him to care about her.  Yet, there was nothing she could do, Kagome realized, there was nothing she could do until she heard word from her trusted friend. And still…the dreams continued…

Glancing up from her _koto_ practice, Kagome found Yuki bowing slightly as she entered the room.  It had been three days since her husband had left—and upon seeing the piece of paper clutched carefully in the servants' hands, her heart rose in happiness. Perhaps Miroku had managed after all.

Trying to remain calm, she questioned nervously, "Yes, Yuki-san, what is it?"

Kneeling on the ground, tucking her knees beneath her, Yuki presented the letter to her lady, her head low, "It is a letter from the Shikuoka prefecture, my lady."

"Shi—Shizuoka prefecture?  But that is opposite of Edo…" Kagome murmured to herself, "But that is towards Kyoto and Nagoya, surely it cannot be from…"  

She paused, and glancing first at Yuki, and then down at the letter, she bit her lip and said nothing.

"I am sure it must be for my husband then."  Kagome admitted with a sigh.

"We do have an alliance with the Shizuoka prefecture," began Yuki, beginning to stand up, "But to what extent I am not sure."

Kagome's eyes had now turned gray and cloudy in apprehension.  She had no idea where her husband was, somewhere approaching Edo, or in Edo itself…and what the purpose was, she was unclear of that as well.

"Damn!"  Kagome swore bitterly, thankful that Yuki had left, "Am I left in the dark _all _the time!?"

Yet, the letter remained unopened.  Sighing heavily and massaging her temples, she realized that this letter could not remain so.  Its contents must be known, and her role in the affairs to come would decide crucially on its contents.

Sincerely hoping it was just an annual card to celebrate spring, she realized that her hopes had faded as the hurriedly written scrawl was presented in front of her eyes.  Such hurried strokes and inconsistency of hand was certainly not a seasonal courtesy.

Heaving one heavier sigh, she began to read its contents.

_Inuyasha-sama,_

_Years ago the Gunma and Tochigi prefectures created an alliance to the Shizuoka County and its surrounding areas.  More importantly, you have granted us permission to continue with our youkai exterminating throughout the hills and surrounding areas. Yet, as I dare write I have received word from the east that the warlord who has taken over the Yamanashi prefecture has its eyes set on our very own youkai exterminating business and valley._

The writing was illegible for a period of three sentences.

_Sesshoumaru, the great youkai lord of the east, has now made an alliance with this unnamed warlord.  As I write this very letter to you, a messenger from Iida has come with word that an army attacks.  This lord's move have been more quick and decisive than we could ever have hoped.  We call upon this old alliance to defend our homeland._

The signature was indecipherable. Glancing at the date she found that this letter had been wrote a week ago.

Her throat dry, Kagome murmured, "Oh god…"

````````

It was late during the evening of their third night in Edo, six days total away from the Genma valley.  The first day, the two of them had rested in a hotel before calling on various lords of the area, and establishing good graces as they did every year.  One of the new detours of this year consisted of sending in their expected list of weapons for the following summer.  .

The following day they had traveled to suburban fortresses discussing politics and new tactics in war.  Strangely, few had heard of an invisible force generating from south, no one heard of the Yamanashi prefecture's downfall…in fact a few of them had received a beautifully written letter a few weeks ago expecting their alliances to remain intact.

Inuyasha had protested, but Miroku remained silent, his eyes troubled and disturbed.  They had remained that way since they had left the Genma valley, since that night in the inn.

This night, however, was the second to last night they would be spending in Edo, before making their way up to Sapporo, after stopping for a period of two or three days at Ashikaga, Tomukamachi, Nagaoka, Kouriyama, Fukushima, Sendai, Ishinomkaki, Morioka, Hirosaki, Hachinohe, and Hakodate.  In the late fall and early winter was when the two traveled towards Kyoto, and skirted unnoticeably along the border that they shared with the Shizuoka prefecture. 

"Ne, Inuyasha," Miroku began, skewering a piece of chicken at the open grill in a small restaurant located near the border of the Ginza, "That man, over there in the corner, he looks familiar, wouldn't you agree?"

Inuyasha swerved his eyes and found that it was the same stranger they had encounter on their first night away from the fortress. Grinning madly, Inuyasha responded, "Do you think we should invite him over?"

Nodding, Miroku motioned to a waitress and said, "My beauty, please tell that man in the corner that we want him to join us."

Giving the girls rear a parting farewell, Miroku turned to Inuyasha and whispered hurriedly, "I don't trust him for a moment."

"You think I do?"  Inuyasha snorted as he motioned for more choya.

The man made his way forward.  It was strange, the movements of this person, smooth, and swift, yet with a deliberate carelessness with them. As though the figure understood that he was too smooth, too graceful, too refined.  His appearance was that of almost a foreigner, or perhaps a hanyou such as Inuyasha—yet at the same time there was something so human about him that it was hard to determine what or who he was.  His skin was creamy, like milk from a fresh goat, gleaming and clean.  His teeth matched this color, and surrounding them were a light blush to the lips, shiny as though wax had been placed over them.  His eyes were dark and murky, their lashes like night against day.  His brows were thin, smooth, and sculpted, in the craftsmanship like that of the figures of long and luxurious raven colored hair, that fell off his shoulder's in one fluid wave of grace, every now and then flecks of white evident in its strand.

"You called me over?" he began, sitting down on the tatami mat, and arranging himself in a sprawling position against a nearby worn wooden pine pillar.

"You seemed lonely sitting there in the corner.  Never good to be alone when drinking."  Miroku chuckled, filling the strangers cup with cool choya.

"Thanks" murmured the pale skinned man, his large feminine eyes glancing from Inuyasha to Miroku.

"Summers almost here."  Remarked Inuyasha, stretching slightly, "Another month, perhaps two…"

"Its only March, you know."  Miroku grumbled with a sigh of exasperation.

"Oi, that's closer than it was in December."  Inuyasha pouted, crossing his arms.

The stranger chuckled, and replied in his light airy voice, "You two must be good friends indeed."

"If that's what you want to call it."  Miroku shrugged.

"My name is Hakuza."  The stranger smiled lazily, allowing his gleaming teeth to show through his pink lips, "But people call me Kai."

"Why do they call you Kai, if your name is Hakuza?"  Inuyasha questioned, leaning forward, trying to decide whether he was human or demon.  Yet, his scent was so cleverly disguised it was hard to tell.  Yes, there was the smell of human blood, yet at the same time there was a variety of demons.  Perhaps he had just come back from a hunt?

"I grew up by the sea. Do you know of Yaizu?"  The handsome man questioned, sipping the choya.

"Yes, that is in the Shizuoka prefecture."  Responded Miroku hurriedly, quickly pouring 'Kai' some broth from a steaming bowl that had arrived.

"But now, my alliance lies to the south."  Kai confessed, smiling softly.  Whether or not it was a happy or sorrowful smile neither could say.  It was neutral in all respects.

"To the south, you say?" Miroku asked, his interest with the stranger sparked, "To a warlord?"

"My alliance lies with Naraku." The man replied, suddenly subdue.

"I have never heard of this 'Naraku'," Inuyasha admitted, trying to recall. "Has he been around long?"

"Nearly eighteen years."  Kai replied suddenly, his energy having been revived.  It seemed to come in waves.

"Hmm, interesting." Miroku admitted, sipping some soba noodles, "When we return from our tour of the northern country, both Inuyasha and I would be interested in meeting your lord."

"Y-You are Inuyasha-sama?  The lord of the eastern lands?" Kai sputtered in surprise, "My lord speaks quite highly of you!  In fact, I was to journey to find you in your annual tour of the north, and request to meet him."

"Well now, isn't that a coincidence!"  Miroku clapped, chuckling under his breath.

"He will be very relieved.  For some time I have been looking for you, usually you are not at your fortress at Genma during this time of year, so by the time I heard the news of your injury…" the man stopped suddenly, and glancing towards the door his eyes seemed emotionless and cold as a young beautiful female walked into the inn, followed by a handsome man at her side.

Kai faced Miroku and Inuyasha, and spoke hurriedly, "But now that I have found you, I will tell my lord.  May we meet here in two months then?"

Inuyasha nodded slightly, "Etoh…"

Miroku cut in, brushing his lord aside, "I suppose we must. But can't I interest you in a round of Sake?"

Kai's hair fell gracefully over his shoulder as he retreated into the din of the inn, "No, thank you for the kind offer.  I must be off this evening."

"Are you quite sure, Kai?"  Miroku called out, waving a filled container in the air, "There is more than enough!"

Kai had now all but disappeared into the crowd of the restaurant, his body camouflaged among the masses of flesh than sat humped over the bar, or tables.

Miroku, glancing at his skeptical lord, replied, "Well now…"

Inuyasha fumed bitterly, "Who the hell is this Naraku?"

Miroku sighed, and running his hand through his hair, whispered to himself, "The dark hand that guides the south…"

Before Inuyasha could say anything else, a rich voice entered their ears, and glancing up in curiosity both were mildly surprised to see a the beautiful woman who had just entered the front of the inn walk directly towards their table.  Her hands lay quietly at her side, her eyes, a clear hazel color, were now studying Inuyasha's upturned face in curiosity.

"So it is you," the beauty breathed, gently bringing her fingers to her dark main of hair before casually tossing it behind her shoulder.  Placing that hand smoothly on her hips, a thin quiet smile came to her pretty face, causing her eyes to crinkle as though she were a child.

Miroku, glancing up, smothered his sexy smirk as soon as his eyes fell to her handsome counterpart, leaning against the pillar where Kai had only moments ago sprawled.  Miroku, being completely heterosexual himself, could not help but notice this mans classic good looks.  His skin was smooth, the color of moonlight, his eyes dark, clever, daring—his composition like that of the yin and the yang of China.  He was a man of perfect balance; and incorporated into this balance was the love of this slender young female.

This was woman he could and would not trifle with… 

"Who the fuck are you?" snarled Inuyasha angrily, slightly annoyed by this onslaught of unwelcome people.

"Can't you tell?  We once lived together not so long ago.  Perhaps about eighteen years…" the girl whispered nearly inaudibly.

"What the hell are you talking about?"  Inuyasha barked bitterly, "Sixteen years ago you were only a child! What would you know?"

"You may not remember me, but my sister I am sure you remember."  The girl chuckled slightly, seating herself down and pouring the left over choya into a cup, "Kikyou, ne?"

```````````

_This is just wonderful…_thought Kagome darkly as she buried her head in her arms, trying to hide her face from the world.  Sitting in the nearly boiling water was not so bad, really.  It was relaxing her to some extent, at least.  Yet, the fact remained that she had to make a decision.

And what it came down to was one of two words.

Yes.

Or

No.

Yes, she would risk getting in serious trouble by her lord, and husband by going against his wishes.  Yes, she would travel to Shizuoka and see what she could do, and find out exactly who this 'Sesshoumaru' was, along with this new dark warlord.  Kagome realized that Inuyasha and Sesshoumaru must be enemies…but who was this new person?

_Stop…! _Kagome yelled to herself.  She couldn't go off on a tangent. She had to think in 'pro' or 'con' terms.

Pro:  she would be getting out of this blasted birdcage.

Con:  her husband would probably lock her away in Kyoto after this, complete with all the air headed noble women.

Pro: she might actually do some good. Was that possible?

Con: she might screw things up terribly

Pro:  she would be more informed of the situation with her husband, and what his territory and allegiances were, and all those interesting things.

Con:  she could do something terrible—wait…hadn't she already thought that?

Trying to think of another 'con' she found that in actuality she couldn't.  The worst thing she could do was that her husband would make her life a living hell, and she would screw up all his plans.  Yet, there seemed so many more pro's…there was a whisper of adventure, new people, new places, just _newness._

"Damn it…" Kagome whispered bitterly, nibbling on her fingernails. "Damn it…"

"Kagome-sama, did you say something?" questioned Yuki from the next room.

"No, I didn't say anything."  Kagome sighed, washing her forehead and winding a piece of her thick hair about her fingers. Glancing about the room, she exhaled her pent up breath, and continued, "Ne, Yuki…? How far away is Shizuoka from here?"

There was a silence in which Kagome presumed that Yuki was trying to mentally figure it out, "A week, perhaps."  Acknowledged the girl.

"A week?" gasped Kagome shocked by the amount of time, and bolting up in the bath, "B-But that's so long!"

"It would be quicker…if Inuyasha and Sesshoumaru were not at war…Sesshoumaru's land divides us."  Yuki admitted.

Kagome massaged her temples yet again, and said sternly, "Yuki, inform the servants to prepare the horses and supplies for tomorrow."

"Are you going to visit your family, Kagome-sama?"  Yuki questioned, the thought of even betraying her husbands trust not yet settled into her small mind.

"No. Tomorrow I set out for Shizuoka."  Kagome replied firmly.  "Tonight I will write a letter to Inuyasha, hopefully it will reach him soon, since he has so conveniently not informed _us _of his whereabouts." Kagome spat bitterly, drying herself off with a towel.

"But my lady!"  Yuki replied from the other room, fear in her voice, "It is dangerous for you to travel alone!"

"Yuki," began Kagome in a harsh tone, "Dare you question my word?"

``````````

"Kikyou?"  Miroku questioned, intrigued by the female name, "My my, Inuyasha, you sly dog you!"

Realizing he had just made a joke, he broke out into a bit of laughter, before recovering his composure.

"Kikyou was the girl that Sesshoumaru killed."  Inuyasha sighed bitterly, having never actually explained to Miroku about the past relationship.

"Oh, really now?  And she had a younger sister then, hmm?"  Miroku smirked slightly, gazing at his companion.

"A brat of one, that's for fucking sure."  Inuyasha growled.

"Excuse me."  A deep voice from behind Kaede's voluptuous frame requested, "Understand that I am not here just for decoration, and that if you speak ill of her you will have to pay the consequences."

"Oh yeah?" Inuyasha spat, "And you are?"

"Oh, don't bother with him," whispered Kaede, "He has always been like this. I do not know what my sister saw in him."

"I would have to agree."  Replied the man, gazing sternly down at the silvery-haired hanyou.

"What was that?"  Inuyasha snarled, bitterly rising to his feet, "What the fuck would you know about me or her?!"

"Calm down, calm down everyone."  Miroku soothed, pulling on Inuyasha's garments, and then to the two guests he responded, "Please, take a seat."

"At least he has manners."  The handsome man behind Kaede commented.

The two gracefully seated themselves opposite the two, sinking gratefully to the ground, as though they had just suffured from a terribly long and tiring journey.  Fait traces of ill nights sleep were highlighted underneath their eyes—as though many dangers had gracefully been defeated, but at great costs. Would else would the two defeat in the future?

"Anyways!"  Began Miroku, directing the conversation "Is there something particular you wish to speak to me, or Inuyasha here about?  This is our last night in Edo and…"

Kaede, ordering a cup of tea, and pouring some for her companion, cut off, "Yes, and no, actually."

"Well, spit it out, damn it."  Inuyasha commanded, snatching the teakettle away from her.

"Excuse you."  The handsome companion of Kaede hissed, snatching the large copper pot back.  A bit of heated water fell onto the tablecloth, instantly absorbed into the dry wood.

"Anyways…" Miroku grumbled, resting his head in his palm in annoyance and frustration.

"About your companion that just left.  Have you known him long?"  Kaede responded quietly, her large hazel eyes meeting her companion's own dark gray ones.  Something had changed in her tone.  It was no longer joking, no longer playful, no longer amused. What she now spoke of was serious in every respect.  Perhaps more so than death…A shadows had fallen upon the visitors, their forms distorted momentarily. 

"Well, no, actually…we recognized him from earlier on, and invited him over for drinking."  Miroku explained, motioning to a variety of empty cups and saucers that littered the tabletop, "But he did leave so very suddenly.  Why?"

The two guests exchanged looks that seemed to mean something, and then replied, "Well, keep an eye on him.  When you return to Genma, please visit us at our shrine."

"Oh, you two run a shrine then?"  Miroku replied curiously, "My, how quaint." A sweet, almost fox-like smile, appeared on his handome features.

 "There is a matter of importance that has been developing for some time now.  Have you heard of a warlord called 'Naraku'?"

"The one that _supposedly_ has taken over the Yamanashi prefecture?"  Inuyasha questioned, his curiosity sparked. "The one that writes letters of remaining alliances to uninformed urbanites?"

"The very one." Replied the male companion, sipping his tea solemnly, nodding to himself about the use of herbs. 

"We can't talk here."  Sighed Kaede, resting her head in her hands, and groaning, "He has too many spies.  Only in a shrine may we be somewhat safe."  A few strands of her umber hair fell onto the table top, contrasting with the gray of the woven tablecloth.

"What does that mean?"  Miroku questioned, his eyebrows rising ever so slightly.

"It means that when and _if_ you return from your tour, visit us immediately.  Before you counter attack your brother, you must consult with us first."  Kaede grumbled, searching inside her satchel for something.  Upon finding it, she withdrew a piece of thick washi paper followed  "This is all rather quick, you know."  Miroku wavered slightly, still entranced by Kaede's robust figure.

"Hmm."  Was the only response the two received.

"By the way, what is your name, since I never really met you before…I was only about three or four at the time, so my role in this does not seem as great…" Miroku inquired, shrugging slightly.  Then, he grinned a bit and chuckled slightly to himself as though in some private joke.

"Kaede, and this is Hiroyoshi, my husband.  We are only in Tokyo to visit the head of our council.  He is both powerful and wise…" Kaede responded quietly, Inuyasha and Miroku unaware that the couples' fingers were now embraced in the privacy underneath the tablecloth.

Inuyasha and Miroku did not respond to this last comment, their minds were already far away, innumerable questions bordering on the edge of their psyche.  It was as though something dark was closing in about them, something that they could not resist, and something that was beckoning them closer and closer to them day by day by day. Heaving a deep sigh, Inuyasha berried his head in his hands and his body shook though he was crying softly to himself.  But for Inuyasha to cry…that was something that Miroku would not live to see…

"Who is this Naraku?"  Inuyasha's hoarse voice whispered bitterly, his fingers gripping his hair, as though he was about to pull it angrily out of his skull.

Hiroyoshi and Kaede said nothing; instead, Hiroyoshi watched as his wife added a bit of water to an ink stone and formed deep dark ink.  Her stokes were graceful, like the movement of the crane in the marsh, with one leg tucked beneath his breast of snow.  The four figures faces glinted in candlelight, the unmistakable look of fear and worry etched into their features. 

"Kaede," mused Miroku after a moment, "Do you know what he has in mind? Anything.  An inkling…"

The two exchanged deep, dark and long glances.  Kaede's chest heaved a sigh, and slipping a piece of her chocolaty brown hair behind her ear, she replied, "Perhaps complete and utter destruction to what you hold dear."

"Well," laughed Miroku cheekily, sipping some tea, "At least its not your brother then, eh, Inuyasha?"

Inuyasha grunted.  It was as though his entire body had shut down.  Soon, however, he would rise to the challenge and vow that never allow Naraku to follow the path of his brother.  The cycle would end here, he told himself.  One death of a beloved was enough for his life.  His amber eyes had turned an angry shade of umber, their depths like that of the fire of a late evening sunset.  They glinted and crackled with an unknown power.

"Sesshoumaru," began Kaede, her eyes narrowing slightly, "I have heard he has made an alliance with this Naraku…"

Hiroyoshi glanced up and spoke swiftly, his gray eyes troubled and interrested, "I have heard quite the opposite that they are enemies."  A slight frown appeared on this stranger's face, as though he was trying to remember scattered bits of information he head heard over the past months.  Winter had been long indeed.

Miroku stole a glance at his lord.  Inuyasha's visage was like that of a mask, cold, impersonal, and utterly impossible to read.

Kaede tossed a folded piece of paper across the table, and it bounced a few times before landing by the bowl.  "That," she began, "Is directions to our shrine."

"Its not in the most accessible of areas."  Hiroyoshi grinned wryly, the frown for the most part dissipated.

"Be sure you pay us a visit before you decide.  And," she paused, her gaze now falling to Inuyasha, "Do not be swayed by Naraku's charm…I think there are deeper things afoot here than any of us realize."

The priestess and monk rose in unison and turned to leave, paused only by Miroku's words, "But where are you going?"

"To the head of our council, who is both powerful and wise."  The young miko repeated again, flashing a grin to the two, tossing a few hundred yen onto the tabletop.   Miroku's eyes strayed slightly as the light caught their metal surface and momentarily blinded him.  By the time he looked up the two were halfway across the room, heading for the flapping doorway.

Miroku and Inuyasha exchanged an apprehensive glance, the words of Kaede, Kai and Hiroyoshi still fresh in their mind.  Somehow, everything was happening too fast.  Perhaps the winter snows of the mountain were beginning to melt, and soon the rivers would swell and their swiftness increase like that of an angry spirit.  Conflicting words did battle in each of their mind, struggling for control. Perhaps the snow was beginning to melt in the mountains of the Yamanashi prefecture…

"Miroku," Inuyasha sighed reluctantly, "When we get to Nagaoka…send word for my wif—_for_ Kagome."

``````````````````

AN: a LOT of dialog, and WOW I got this chapter out fast. This chapter is mainly a…well, it's mainly a plot-moving-along agent.  Twas needed, as well as new characters needed to be introduced. Like I said, this is both a war and a romance, so if there isn't a lot of romance in this chapter, buuuh! You loose! Jk.  Between IY/Kag there won't be a lot of contact for a LONNNNG period of time…but does that lead to tension? Why yes, of course it does! But guess who is entering the stage again? If you guessed Se-chan, your right, because next chapter he is back, and as hot as he ever was.

Next chapter…Kagome leaves for Shizuoka. Did the youkai extermination services rather give it away? ^_~ I suppose Sango will make her debut.  Miroku receives Kagome's letter a week later—where he must rush off to find her, leaving an alone IY, at the will of whom else but Naraku?  

I actually updated "Forgotten Wish" my website.  I decided that Spirited Away has died…or merged in with Forgotten Wish. X_x and FW has now turned into my fanfiction site with all my stories for your enjoyment! O_o  I liked the layout to the old FW so I decided to leave it the same. Anyways, enjoy! You can go there…  

That's all I can say for now, because…well…its like that! WA HA HA HA!!!!! XD!!!!! 

Alrighty then

_PLEASE_ R + R

~cappie

cappiepost@yahoo.com


	9. blown by the winds of chance

AN: hello everyone! I am currently writing this little authors note in the back seat of a car on the way to Washington.  For much of my life, I really never liked laptops. But now, I see the beauty of them….because you *can* take them everywhere!  My dad is now worried that it will be raining and snowing once we reach the mountains, and really, I can' blame him…because, well, hey, I am a new driver as well. ^_^;

Anyways, enough of this mindless ramblings.  Chapter ten was happily beta-read by obi and my pal khuu-chan. Thanks so much you two rock! ^_~ *smooch*

Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

Chapter 10

_Blown By the Winds of Chance___

The horses' hooves pounded through the moist dirt, beginning to become dry on its most exposed vistas.  Its color was that nearly of rouge, or a cedar tree.  Glancing around and guiding the horse through the overgrown mountain path, Kagome gazed off into the distance at what she could see.  The sun would soon rise from east, yet only the beginnings of pink and the faintest of gold appeared at the horizon.  Kagome, accompanied only by one servant, had been traveling for the past three days.  It was only when exhaustion and overgrown roads allowed her to go no farther that she rested.

This wife of Inuyasha was well aware that her actions were ludicrous—she was a noble woman, one that should not be allowed outside of the beautiful pavilion.  Yet, Kagome was also aware that her husbands' kingdom now bordered on destruction and internal revolts if she did not make any obvious efforts to help.

The path had now turned downward, the summit having been reached some ten minutes ago, and slowly she and her servant made their way down the mountain, and into the lands her husband ruled.

Taking her map from her pocket, she consulted its now worn edges.  Only a small amount of this prefecture had been printed, and its roads and byways few and far-between.  Suppressing an irritated sigh, she nudged the mare forward, and down into the fertile seaside valley of the Shizuoka prefecture.

"So this is our alliance…and to the east and west lays our enemies."

````

Great ominous clouds poured into the city of Fukushima. Although beautiful and brilliant in their entire array—and a blessing for farmers as well, Inuyasha could not help but feel a little downtrodden as he walked through the still deserted streets of midmorning. Studying their dark depths, which reminded him of an angrily tumultuous sea, his expression changed from that of the neutral to a melancholy guise.

Glancing about, he hurried into the inn in which he and Miroku were now staying. This was to be their last day in Fukushima—only one last dignitary to visit in the vicinity. It was not as though he was unhappy about this turn of events—it was just that Kai's information and Kaede's words still hung fresh in his mind.  Naraku would be a useful alley—and yet, could he really trust Kikyou's younger sister?  He had inklings whom Kaede still blamed for the death of such a beloved kin…and so, was her information trustworthy? Or even truthful? Yet, Naraku would allow him to quickly and easily slice the cause of his torture through the center, and allow the world to be reshaped, and perhaps, his happiness to return. 

Despite the darkness of the environment, the gray light had the opposite effect in the inn, giving it a luminous and airy appearance. It being but early morning at most, the room was unusually absent of people.

Unlike most inns in Fukushima, this one was blessed with a small pleasing garden. It was sparsely ornamented, consisting mostly of light sand colored gravel, and scattered mosses and Camilla bushes (now in full bloom). A great Japanese maple had been placed in the corner some years ago, its trunk marked with scars of young children, and now long dead growth. Its large branches, flecked with green, enclosed this space like a protective mother. 

Inuyasha made his way across the dining hall and onto the exterior porch, where Miroku was now chewing idly on some rice crackers.

His companion glanced up, slightly choking on the salty condiment, and smiled, "Good morning."

Ignoring the greeting, Inuyasha plopped down onto the worn tatami mats and poured himself a cup of tea, "This is the last day in Fukushima."

Nodding, Miroku acknowledged, though perhaps not in the expected manner, "Mmhm…"

The two were quiet for a moment. Since they had left Inuyasha's fortress, both, though Miroku openly expressed it, were aware of the lack of warmth and utter disappearance of the convivial quality. It was not as though each had grown tired of the company—but the fact remained that when traveling, three was better than two were. The third could make merriment, and divert them from their dark thoughts.

Ever since the two had left the stronghold, their demeanor and attitude had become rather lacking. Inuyasha was more often than not moody or irritable—and although Miroku was used to his moods, he could not help being aware that it was different this time around. As though there was another cause to his anguish.

Miroku had mentioned to Inuyasha, on their last night in Tokyo, that his wife should be sent for. Although he had spoken no more of this matter, he was well aware that it was slowly eating away at Inuyasha—day by day by day Miroku witnessed the erosion of his sturdy frame.

Inuyasha coughed slightly, as though he meant to say something. Perhaps, pondered Miroku, chewing idly on the rice cracker again, this was the moment he had been waiting for? Perhaps.

"You know…" Inuyasha began unsteadily, as he usually did when discussing members of the opposite sex. With war, he was a genius. With women, a bumbling fool. "I was thinking that since we are far away from Edo…" He paused again, swallowing saliva that had formed in his mouth, "That perhaps we may invite Kagom—my wife."

Smiling gently, Miroku chuckled, though not cruelly, "I think that is a fine idea."

Inuyasha avoided Miroku's amused glare, and although a flush came to his lord's cheeks by the attention, Miroku observed that suddenly the mood seemed brighter because Kagome would soon be joining his lord's side.  If Kagome had not been bound to Inuyasha'a side, Miroku found the prospect of the young free spirited girl quite satisfying one indeed.  She held a joy for life, and an interest for all things.  She was unique in a word of replicas.  Ordering tea, the two remained in silence.  For the past days, the only subject had been that of Naraku—who and what he was, and the word from the west.  So far, everything was calm. Although, as Inuyasha liked to point out daily, the world was _too _calm in such an age of warfare.

People rotted by the sides of the road, their mutilated bodies' inhabitant by animals and the lower life of the world.  Their eyes gazed unseeingly about, desperate to return to the world they had once known—though no longer able.  Children's first memories would be of great fire, of screams, of sobs—was this such a way to live life?

"Well," Miroku finally breathed after a while, "I suppose I should write a letter…to your wife, that is.  I should inform her to meet us in the next town, correct?"

It took him a while to respond, as though something very old and dated was playing in his mind. An image without an emotion.

"Uh, yes."

She was like a ghost who could not rest.  She would suck the soul out of him yet; this Kikyou…

`````````

Slowly, and carefully, she descended from her horse outside a fortress constructed of large timbers, their bark worn and faded by the long days and wet nights.  The construction seemed to have taken place many years ago, for large mossy and grassy hills had grown up and about the wood, as though it was slowly sinking into the earth.  About a quarter of a mile away was a small stream where her servant had gone to water the horses.  Soon he would return, and once again, her Japanese would be perfect, her movements graceful.  So, in actuality, she only had a few well chosen moments, ten minutes at most, to plan, plot and be informed of all the happenings in this prefecture.

In an airy yukata (Yuki had suggested that she travel informally. And although Kagome had _first_ thought of this course of action it was firmly decided against it—until someone else suggested the thought to her, that is) she descended her horse, and made her way towards the building.

The soil inside the compound was dusty, and squeezing through the partial openings of the great doors, her breath caught in her throat.  Bringing her hands to her mouth, she struggled to keep a sob within her body. 

Row after row after row after row of mounds met her eyes.  There could be no mistaking their purpose; they were graves, graves for people she might have known, and perhaps might have cared for.  Yet, only immense sorrow greeted Kagome. She had arrived too late; too late to be of any use, too late to use her power.  It was bitterly painful, as though knife had been angrily jabbed into her gut.  Struggling for support, she leaned against the wooden wall, and breathed a deep shuddering sigh.  Closing her eyes, she felt moisture on her lashes as well as that on her forehead.  Despite the fact that she lived in a feudal age, she had never grown used to death. 

The entire world had stopped; and for how long, she was not quite sure.  All she knew was that the next time she opened her eyes was when a gentle feminine voice caught her ears, questioning dully, yet bravely at the same time, "Excuse me…"

Flushing, and hurriedly wiping the tears from her eyes, she mumbled, "Uh, yes.  I am…uh, I am," she tried desperately of a way to think of how she could put this delicately.  She was the wife of their leader; the leader who had fed them to the wolves of this masked demon.

"You're Inuyasha's bride."  The girl stated.  It was not a question, or perhaps it was.  Grief and exhaustion were now battling for control.  Yet, formality was the rules in situations such as these.  Kagome rallied her spirits relatively well, and replied, "Yes, I am his wife.  Unfortunately, he is away…and I do not know where. I took it upon myself to visit this area."  Pausing again, she examined the girl for the first time.  She was perhaps a year or two older than Kagome.  As far as her own sex went, she was a traditional image—she had long dark hair, whether black of umber Kagome could not tell in this light.  Her eyes matched her hair, although flecks of gold were evident in them—and considering the situation, they shone with great vigor. Her attire was traditional in design, and this suited her.

"My name is Kagome."  Kagome gushed, bowing deeply, and then she added, "I am extremely sorry for your loss.  If only I had known…."

The girl gazed at her for a moment, as though she was judging her character.  Her eyes grew hazy and her countenance cold.

Thankfully, she seemed to have passed whatever test had taken place, and a moment later, and the girl responded, "There is nothing you—or even Inuyasha-sama could have done.  _He _was too powerful—and we played right into his hands.  My name is Sango—I am by profession a youkai exterminator."

"I…see."  Kagome stuttered slightly, and then continuing hurriedly, "Who is this person that you speak of?  How did this come about—and why does it seem that this attack is so sudden?"

Sango glanced over Kagome's shoulder and studied the servant who was walking back with the dapple-gray horses and shrugged slightly, before murmuring softly, "Come inside.  There is much to tell.  Even I have not digested this truth yet…"

Glancing behind her, Kagome found great clouds forming in the east. 

```````

Leaning against a wall, his head reclined, Miroku tried to figure out how exactly he was going to write this letter.  It was not as though he could be too triumphant—but it would be a loss to be too kindhearted all the same.  His face formed an _expression of deep concentration, and he put his hand up to his chin, and contemplated how best to go about this whole process.

He would have to show it to Inuyasha, and so there could be no inkling of a doubt that Miroku and Kagome had previously planned these arrangements.  Inuyasha would _have _to think that he was benefiting his poor wife—he had to be under the impression that these turn of events were the cause of his intellect and his alone.

Dipping the brush in a pool of deep purple ink (he had come upon this frivolity in Edo) his hand hovered over the washi paper for a time, before decidedly, with swift and strong strokes, bore down on the paper to write this correspondence to his mistress.

It took him no more than two minutes at most, and his pen only needed to be submerged but four or five times.  Finally, with a gleaming eye and an accomplished grin, he gazed down at the paper and checked his kanji for errors.__

_Kagome-sama___

_Inuyasha-sama has requested that you join us in __Sendai__ and expect your arrival in three days time.  Currently, we are staying in __Fukushima__; and have visited __Ashikaga, Tomukamachi, Nagaoka, Kouriyama as we do every year.  Send no word of your refusal—for we have much to inform you._

Although he would not admit this to be a finer work of his pen, the purpose was clean, and the meaning great.  Despite what Japanese society demanded—he found it better to stare people in the eye, and make all purposes clear.  In such a day in which he lived, there could be no miscommunication of any kind.  The risk was too great.  The cost of lives always bearing down upon his heart, like a dream he could never awake from.  There had been a hook to draw her in—for indeed, there was much to inform her of, even if Inuyasha did not take this responsibility.  Kagome, his wife and co-ruler of the eastern lands of Inuyasha had a right to know of the actions that concerned her well being, and damn it if Naraku was not one.

When the door slid open to his private chamber, he glanced up in curiosity, which was ignited even more to find the young mistress of the Inn present herself.

"Yes?"  Miroku asked richly, admiring her petty eyes and petite figure.

The girl seemed ill at ease, and reaching from within an apron she was wearing, she withdrew a damaged letter.

"This just arrived for you."  She explained, handing it to his still reclined form.  Miroku, eyeing the paper carefully found a few words and the style of script very familiar.  Dismissing the girl, but hoping for later delights, he hurriedly opened the letter.  The envelope seemed damaged, as though many hands before had touched its thin paper boundaries.  There were smudged of dirt, and even a few drops of ink.

Unfolding the clean thick mulberry paper from within, Miroku had not an inkling of what he might read.  The room was quiet for perhaps a minute, and then, swiftly, he took great steps, and hurried out into the hall, and in the direction of the veranda where Inuyasha was lazily reading a book.

The day had turned gray, although patches of a glorious blue sky were sometimes caught as they danced in and about the clouds.  Trying to choose his words carefully, and with the greatest precaution, Miroku stepped towards Inuyasha'a reclined and relax frame.

"Inuyasha-sama," he began quietly, sitting across the round table from his friend.

The hanyou glanced up, a look of childlike innocence resting on his features.  Inuyasha had perhaps, for a period of ten or twenty minutes, allowed himself to fall back into peace; to fall back into laziness; to return to an innocence which for so many years had lingered in the shadows.

"Yes?"  Yet, that innocence had gone now; the hanyou had detected the fear and agitation in Miroku, and had sprung alive into a defensive mode, "What is it?"

Saying not a word, Miroku handed the letter to Inuyasha and allowed him to decipher it on his own.  As he waited for a response, Miroku thought, _She had to run away, didn't she?  Goddamn it, I was so close, and now we are back to square one.  I will probably have to go get her—leaving Inuyasha alone.  In this state, what with Kagome and Naraku, he will probably do something foolish.  And here…there is no one to stop him…___

"Miroku," Inuyasha began quietly, subdue, yet anger and shock eminent in his voice, his silver hair cast over his features giving him a deranged and bloodthirsty look, "You know what you must do."

Slightly taken aback, Miroku stammered, "And what is that, my lord?"

It was strange, this reaction he had, although it was not what he expected; perhaps he truly was beginning to care for the girl, and anger rather than concern overpowered and guided his judgment.  Yet, on the other hand, this could be the calm before the storm…perhaps soon lightening would strike, and then the thunder—and all would be as it should be.  There would be no ambiguity in his feelings—there would be respect; and past this nothing more.  

"You must go after her, and bring her back."  Inuyasha sighed, crumpling the letter in one hand, and throwing it into the fire.  "What the fucking else am I supposed to do?  I certainly can't go!"

"I realize this—," Miroku began pensively, watching as the edges turned umber and soon after that a deep black, their limits trimmed with scarlet and ginger. 

"You must go!"  Inuyasha spat, rising suddenly, "I have an appointment this afternoon.  It is not my duty to go and chase after her—we are both tied to this marriage against our will, it is not my place and will to go and get her."__

_These are lies, you know this Inuyasha.  Although you do not love her or perhaps even like her…you respect her, and she deserves your concern no matter how much you try to revert your feelings to what they once were.  There is no turning back from this girl, my lord… _

"My lord…"

Inuyasha stepped forward, a great wind from the storm wrestling his hair, his eyes angry and aflame with fire, "Dare you question my word?"

So, it was back to these games, eh?  "Of course not. However, what of this appointment?  Will you be fine by yourself?"

The fire had died, and now just annoyance remained, "I used to do this long before you came into my services.  Don't you think me capable?"

He did—but Naraku was insidious, after all. "There is Naraku…"

"We do not know the truth of it—we have heard both good and bad accounts—,"

"—My lord, reconsider!"  Miroku found himself struggling in vain.  Was this his friend he had known through the years?  The hanyou who would not allow himself to be blinded by the common tongue, and the myths and legends of the proletarians?  All he had heard of this Naraku was troubling…his motives and methods were too…too sharp.  Would Inuyasha blindly cut his throat for such revenge?

"I will be on my guard, don't worry. I am not as big as idiot as you take me for."  The hanyou lord now walked to the front of the hotel and exchanged a few hurried words to the mistress before walking in Miroku's direction, "Now, you must leave, and I must make my way for Shinikagi's residence."

Deciding it was better not to say anything; Miroku swiftly bowed and made his way to his room to prepare for his journey. Somehow, these turn of events seemed too planned, too perfect.  This was a trap, damn it, and Inuyasha was blinded by his lust for war and could not see it.  If Miroku did not return quickly, he hypothesized that when he returned, Inuyasha would be beyond his reach—blinded by an angry fury; being completely controlled by the mysterious hand that guarded the south.

"I hope you have a good trip; send word as soon as you arrive. Who knows what tricks my brother plays," Inuyasha parted, resting against the entrance to the Inn, watching in hurried anticipation as he mounted the horse.

"Take care of yourself as well—don't do anything without consulting me first."  Miroku warned, meeting Inuyasha's eyes; trying to convey the pit in the stomach, he held. 

"Get out of here—and don't take advantage of too many girls!"  Inuyasha commanded playfully, shooing him away.

As he quickly sped down the street, Miroku thought darkly that Inuyasha had not even mentioned the second piece of parchment with in the letter.  Never once had the prefecture of Shizuoka been mentioned.  Whether it was intentional, or not, Miroku could not guess.

Casting one last glance, as though this would be the last time he would see his lord in a great while, he kicked the horse and set off in search for Kagome. The storm blew in, and a great longing touched his heart.  Scowling, he urged the steed faster, as though this action could save him from the drops that began to fall from the sky.

`````````

The atmosphere in the quiet room was more peaceful and pleasant.  The fresh graves outside the door seemed not exist; the sunlight penetrated the screens as though saying, 'Happiness lies within these walls'.  Moreover, perhaps, Kagome thought sadly, they did exist at one time.  Now this Sango, this solitary girl, was left to carry the burden and anger with her life a great weight her whole life.

Glancing nervously up, Kagome studied the girl whose hospitality she was convivially enjoying.  Sango's hands were bruised and bloody—for, no doubt, the girl had dug each grave herself; her blood, sweat and tears mingling with her family and loved ones. 

Sipping the simple earthy tea, Kagome murmured, "Do you wish to travel with me back to the fortress?  Perhaps something may be done—contact with my husband may have been reached."

The girls' dark strong eyes met her, and Sango answered with reserved firmness, "I wish for nothing more than revenge—for my sister, for my family…for everyone."

Kagome was confused, and yet impressed at the same time by her actions; "Do you know who has done this?"

"There are only two possible people…one of which I doubt very much would be this cruel."  Sango informed Kagome, as she stood up and brought a basin of water and a towel to ease her tired and bruised hands.  "The first of which is Sesshoumaru, the lord of the western lands—but his intentions do not lie in killing innocent people.  He has a grudge to bear against his brother, and only wishes for what he claims are his."

Watching her closely, Kagome questioned hurriedly, aware that she was grossly uninformed of the whole situation, "Who is his brother?"

"You mean, you do not know of the relation?"

"I was never told." Kagome replied, shame flushing her cheek. At this moment, she was painfully aware of how clueless she was regarding the world and perhaps, everything as well.  What was truth? What was lies?  A great longing engulfed her, as she wished to for once to be a commoner, to see the world as they did.  To see the passing of the seasons for something more than perhaps the winter and summer fashions of Kyoto—to see the world as it slowly matured, died, and was reborn.

"I imagine you weren't.  With power comes strength, but often the potential is unknown—and this…" Sango paused, choosing her hers with great care, "This inhibits the possibility."

Chuckling, Kagome agreed, and let this acquaintance continue.  She was the novice in such a situation, and she had but to learn—and then perhaps, she hoped, all that could would become clear. 

"Sesshoumaru is Inuyasha's step brother.  Yet, their history is troubled one."  Sango paused; the topic seemed to bring her into a better mood.  The fact that death was not lurking in both the shades and light was a comfort, "If you saw the two, I have been told, it would become apparent.  They look nearly the identical in most respects; except for the fact that Inuyasha is a hanyou and Sesshoumaru prides himself in being a full blooded youkai."

Settling herself into a comfortable position, she allowed the history of her husband to wash over her.  The strife of the two brothers and the anguish of the past…

````````

Had there ever been a demon that could unite the bloody past between the youkai and the humans, it was Inuyasha's father.  Like a sudden wind from the east, his actions were unheard of and audacious in every respect.  Although not everyone had agreed to the way that this lord acquired what he desired, it was a consensus that in the end, his dealings would help bring about a new day and age.  One everyone wished for…

When he died suddenly some ten years after the death of his second wife, a human, the country mourned for the loss.  Happiness faded like the frost touched blooms soon to be forgotten as the cold and cruel reality of winter set in.  War once again engulfed the land, and hope was driven out suddenly like a flame in the rain.

Inutaisho's first wife, a demon, had died in childbirth.  All had agreed that her sacrifice was well called for.  Surely, the son of Inutaisho would grow up the same as his father, the same strong spirit and wise and contemplative personality.  For a demon, the young Lord Sesshoumaru's mother had been extraordinarily beautiful.  She was powerful in her own right, yet more in tune with the working of the earth more so than her husband.  Yet, everything about her was striking and refined.  It was expected that if a girl was ever to be conceived that perhaps a bond between a noble house of human and the youkai could be made.  Peace might have been grabbed like a glinting piece of fruit off a tree.

Therefore, when the delicate female demon had died, the setback was indeed great.  Nobody had expected such a cunning and ruthless demon to actually shed tears for such a loss.  For humans, most perceived demons without emotion.  The news had traveled fast, and slowly amends were made.

Sesshoumaru had grown up quickly, well aware of the civil unrest about him.  This soon to be great lord had risen to the challenge of unifying the humans and demons.  For much of his life, this was his goal.  However daunting, his words were simple and strait forward; untangling the most hopeless of situations, and there had been great hopes indeed.  

Some twenty years later when word had been sent to Sesshoumaru (still but a young boy in demon years at the time) that his father and lord had taken up a human wife, all the hope and efforts that the young boy had made towards his shining goal had fallen, like ashes to the ground.  A new child emerged, one who spoke little, and whose attitude was indeterminate.  Sesshoumaru had remained that way for perhaps the last thirty years…a cold and emotionless youkai. The condition only worsened when Inuyasha had been born.  Sesshoumaru's opinion of his half-brother was well known.  People now questioned if peace was attainable, when their benefactors had civil unrest within their family.

Time wore on, slowly and steadily, and the world returned to the way it once had.  Humans and demons held their grudges and crosses to bear, and the eyes of the elderly looked upon the world in the same way a grasshopper did.  A way to survive from day to day, and then nothing more… 

On that terrible midsummer's day, all had fallen.  Inuyasha's mother had died, and Inuyasha had been forced to watch her brutal murder.  Even more trouble was to come that year, when to everyone's shock and indignation the great lord had fallen, and died in battle.  A heroic battle, yet one nonetheless the great lord had died.  The lands had been painfully split apart, and the two brothers resided in comfort and isolation for many long years.  As the years passed, resentment in the west grew towards the east, where the prized jewel of his father resided.  The sword of legend…the sword with the power to kill many indeed.  Sesshoumaru, now the lord of the eastern lands, longed to feel its cool metal in his hands, and often devoted much time in studying the archives of its use.

Yet, Inuyasha would not budge, and instead, when still a teenager, he left his fortress under the cover of darkness and had managed to elude Sesshoumaru's grasp.  It was only until some twenty-odd years of so, that Inuyasha returned to his domain and claimed himself as ruler of the eastern lands.  As far as nobility were concerned, he was as generous and as bloodthirsty as his father.  Moreover, to even his own surprise, his land had flourished under his careful and watchful eye.

Yet, during one summer, it was rumored that something had altered in Inuyasha's countenance.  Something dark and mysterious had enveloped him, and it remained.  A presence, whether good or bad it was not known, yet none the same it remained at all times.  Some had thought that Inuyasha had finally realized the warriors life, and was soon to loose his bloom and radiance as his half brother had done.  Yet, only the women were closer to reality.  Inuyasha, the great lord of the eastern lands, had fallen tragically in love—and her spirit remained wrapped about the hanyou's heart for much longer then time could tell… 

After that eventful summer, the wars had begun. A new rage had filled Inuyasha's form, and Sesshoumaru was happy to comply.  For, anything that brought him closer to his precious sword was well worth the effort.  Sesshoumaru had yet to learn love, some said.  Nevertheless, when the action would inevitably take place, the outlook and continence of the lord of the western lands would change—hopefully for the better, and the bloodshed would discontinue.  

It was perceived that this summer's battle held greater risks then usual.   There was news of the mysterious 'Naraku', but there was also the astonishing fact those after years of solidarity, Inuyasha had taken a bride.  A human bride. For political reasons, yes, but nonetheless the possibility of an heir loomed on the horizon, like the sun waiting to spread its rays across the rain-engorged land…

`````````

"It is now rumored that Sesshoumaru has traveled to the south, and spent a period of three weeks at an unknown mountain residence."  Sango, finished, her posture more relaxed and informal. 

Yet, Kagome could not notice this, for the pieces were already beginning to slowly fit together.  From the limited information that she had managed to obtain, along with the outrageous acts of Inuyasha on that fateful spring day…

It dawned upon her, quite suddenly, that Inuyasha had mistaken her for his past lover.

However, this could not be possible.  The resemblance could not be that great, after all, she was not even related to this mysterious woman. She could not resemble a woman of the past so much.  No, Kagome thought desperately, it had to be a mistake brought on by lack of sleep…

Yet, already the thought possessed her and clung tight without mercy.  Closing her eyes, and bringing her hands to her temples to hide her pretty face, she realized that her marriage was doomed.  More so than it had been ten minutes ago…Kagome shuddered terribly when she acknowledged that if there could have been any hope between the two of them, it now fell off to the sides.  When Inuyasha glanced at her, she knew what his golden eyes.  He saw the living embodiment, however implausible, of a love and life that he had once had.  Inuyasha saw her as this Kikyou…and would continue to until her death…  Her thoughts and idea's would never fully reach potential, for the one unfortunate reason that she was similar in appearance…

"Are you alright?" Sango questioned, bending foreword, her dark eyes clouded with worry.

"Yes," she managed to respond, and forcing down a scream, she finished, "I am…fine."

"Would you like that bath now?  You look very pale…"

_Amusing, Kagome thought darkly, her lips forming a thin troubled line, that the pale-skinned was the fashion of the season…_

"Yes…I believe I will take you up on the offer."  Kagome whispered apologetically, her form seeming sallow and wispy, "I am sorry for this trouble.  I am not living up to my reputation, I suppose."

"There is nothing to forgive.  These are troubled times…"

An:  hey, this chapter took me a while to get out, didn't it? I had it all written, but then the computer died, and I had to wait like 3 weeks. That was annoying. Then! I go to Washington and try to load it up there! Not a good idea…*sigh* and so…yeah…it uploaded wrong and then I had to change it on my aunte computer—and she did not have the right word program (don't ask me how).

Next chapter…!

Action! Sesshoumaru! Kagome! Kidnapping! Enemies become allies! 

Sound interesting enough?

cappiepost@yahoo.com


	10. the mask of illusion

Note: most of this story was written while I was traveling (and still am currently) in Washington State, to visit relatives.  The beauty moves me, but that is perhaps all. I am bored and disgusted beyond all imagination.  So, if this story seems….weird this chapter, forgive me, the altitude got to my head.

Note (again): you know those little extensions that Naraku makes?  Well, in this chapter (in particular) Naraku makes multiple extensions of himself—to talk to Sesshoumaru, Kagome, Inuyasha, blah. So, if he is doing multiple things at once, that's the point, because he has everything planned exactly.  I tried to make this clear during the chapter, but some might still be confused. 

Note (Gomen! Gomen):  sorry about screwing up all the chapters…like…*geh* last chapter. Sorry…

Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

Chapter 11

The Mask of Illusion

The melody that Sango played touched Kagome's heart deeper than she had first imagined.  The tune itself, like most in society, was longing and wistful.  Yet, the pitch and overall performance was one of the most striking things she had seen in her life.  The young girls frame, set off against a waxing moon, her features distorted by the strange shadows.  Such colors caused the sorrow to grasp at Kagome, and made her experience rather painful as she sat listening to the melody of old.

The tune brought back memories of long ago, a reflective quality in her life she could never regain.  A careless and innocent eminence like that of her youth; a flower that had blossomed and died.  Never would the world see its kind again.

The night was clear, and although crisp, not uncomfortable.  Sipping her tea quietly, she allowed its unrefined taste to permeate her taste buds.  However, truthfully, her mind was lingering elsewhere; to the conversation that Sango and she had shared earlier in the afternoon.

Inuyasha had loved, and however ludicrous it sounded, Kagome could not deny that she felt a bit of anger, and perhaps sorrow at hearing this.  She had been forced to marry a man, and there could be no hope of love—for both he, as well as she, knew that the shadow of Kikyo would linger like the last dying flames of a hearth, the heat would remain much longer than the embers.  Kagome pondered if in death she would be set free.

Interrupted from her private reverie, she flushed out of embarrassment, realizing that she had been ignoring Sango.

"I suppose," Sango began, looking at her earnestly, "That what I said this afternoon offended you in some way.  Perhaps, I ought not to have mentioned Inuyasha-sama's past."

She found herself smiling in spite of herself, and replying as truthfully as she could manage, she responded, "No, I am glad you did tell me.  I am well aware how ignorant I am of my husbands' affairs, both past and present.  What hope I held is now gone…and rightfully so."

Sango began again, earnestly lamenting the conversation, "Kagome, don't say such things.  It is possible to have a second love.  Many people have married more than once, and still found happiness."

Draining the cup of tea, Kagome grinned smugly, "Sango, don't try to convince me that a noble-woman's life is full of romance.  It is saying that the dead may come back to life, something we know that is not true."

Sango nodded, and finally gave in, "I suppose your right.  It is like saying a farmer's life is easy."

The two glanced out towards the deep cobalt night sky, speckled with silver from the shining stars.  Each of the girl's thoughts was somewhere else, yet both residing in the same sorrow and regret.  Sango, the young strong girl, had lost love.  Kagome had learned that none was possible…  

````````

Leaning over the silver bowl, Naraku smirked in enjoyment.  Everything, despite a few minor surprises, was turning out just wonderful.  His dark murky eyes glinted in the unnatural light emitted from the crafted pedestal.  Dipping his long and almost feminine fingers into the thick liquid, he shuddered in an almost sexual pleasure as a surge of power spread to every muscle, and every element of his being.  
"My my..." Naraku whispered in pleasure, as he watched the mercury-colored substance drip slowly off his fingers.  "Soon there will be causes to rejoice…"

Inuyasha, the lord of the eastern lands, was nearly fitted perfectly into his hand.  All that the hanyou would require now was some polishing and fine-tuning before adding him to his growing collection of allies…and perhaps other things as well.

Sesshoumaru and Inuyasha were like the yin and the yang, though strangely perverse in their similarities.  Unlike the Chinese form of balance, the dark balancing the light, and the light balancing the dark, these two halves were more or less the same, at least in appearances.  Sesshoumaru carried the more beautiful and refined of the looks, which was probably attributed to the fact that he was a youkai and not a hanyou like his half brother.  Sesshoumaru had more beauty and overall sexual appeal.  His body was well cared for, as was everything that Sesshoumaru saw fit to possess.  He was young in appearance, yet wise and perhaps too jaded beyond his years.  Yet, this quality only added to the desire that possessed Naraku's darkened soul.

When he tasted the youkai he would savor him like a fine wine, only there would be countless more tasting…

Inuyasha on the other hand would prove more of a challenge.  Naraku did not deny that Inuyasha was more immature, and certainly not as handsome as his brother, yet the rough and jagged quality to his personality Naraku found enticing.  It would be such a pleasure to slowly, and painfully, smooth out the edges of the hanyou.  Yet, Inuyasha, unlike Sesshoumaru, was meant to be left in its natural state.  Sesshoumaru had been born into a world of standards, and had been polished and cut so many times, that by the end of it he was a diamond, just like every other diamond, he sparkled and shone and blinded Naraku with the beauty…yet, as strange as it sounded Naraku found Inuyasha sexually appealing for the fact that he was left natural.  He glinted, but only faintly.  If the right oils and tools were applied, Inuyasha might out-shine his older and proud brother.

Falling down to the floor, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to slowly work his power.  He had just witnessed disturbing events from his precious key to the outside world.  Kagome, Inuyasha's wife, would have to be moved into position, perhaps even today if necessary.  He had not counted on Kagome being brazen enough to go out and personally help in with the damage in the Shizuoka prefecture—yes, he had heard she was hot-headed and even strange as far as noble women were concerned, but there had been many such reports of other females as well.  None had ever done anything that audacious…

This required him to move fast.  Yet, he had to be careful in his actions, for if he did a sloppy job of it all, it could easily fall apart.

For the past five minutes, Naraku had slowly been constructing a list of everything that needed to happen by nightfall; by the time, that Miroku would reach the Shizuoka prefecture, and then the fallen fortress of the youkai exterminators.  If he played his cards particularly well, the timing would be perfect, and perhaps the war would erupt sooner rather then later…and he would finally possess that which he had desired for so long…

To begin with, he would have to travel to Fukushima today.  He was expected there as it was.  Inuyasha was not aware, but today's appointment with a dignitary would willingly place him into his outstretched hands.  Smirking, Naraku reflected on how delicious it was to have friends in high places.

Secondly, before he traveled to Fukushima, he would have to visit Sesshoumaru at his abode to explain that the youkai would be receiving an unexpected guest for an indefinite amount of time.  

Thirdly, he would have to make a quick stop in Kyoto to buy Kagome her expensive bribery.  Even if Kagome was an exception to females, no female could refuse the latest fashions of Kyoto.  In addition, if the girl could resist, then perhaps she would become one of his as well.  He always enjoyed having a reluctant one…at times the shrieks of protests could be highly sexual.

Shaking his head sadly, Naraku reflected that he was indeed busy, but of course being exhaustive was exhausting.

``````````

Pouring himself a shallow cup of Choya, Sesshoumaru sat smoothly down besides his polished mahogany desk.  Eyeing a variety of papers, all placed under the watchful prisms of a chunk of amethyst, he suppressed a sigh before lifting the piece of rock and carefully reading the letter he had received the day before.

In reality, the contents were not of much interest, yet anything was better than this stifling silence; this burden on his heart which slowly grew day by day by day.  To say that he was at ease with his comrade's actions would be false indeed.  He had judged many a character through his long life, and first impressions could never be mistaken.  There something sinister in Naraku's actions, something foul in his voice.  He could not at this time explain his hypothesis, yet Sesshoumaru was sure that after the battle would take place the actions of his ally would not surprise him in the least.

Naraku was unworthy.

Naraku was dangerous like a double-edged sword.

And he, the fool, looked the other way hoping that what he saw was false in this world of so many uncertainties.

There was something in the day, a whisper from the east, from where things began and where his past would forever haunt him.  The wretched being of his half-brother resided in the shadows of the mountains.  Was the earth protecting even Inuyasha from his wrath?

Perhaps.

Yet, there was no denying it that something drastic and important would happen today. The clouds that had been forming in the north had paused, as though the world had stopped breathing.  They waited now, their dark depths threatening the unstable structures of man.

Closing his eyes, he massaged his temples generously.  Ever since he had visited Naraku's mountain abode there had been a face, nearly unrecognizable, haunting his waking hours.  Much to his blessing, in the nocturnal hours the whisper of her presence did not even so much sing, and he was left alone, as he was meant to be.  He needed no one.

Moreover, if people needed him, that was their own problem. 

Closing his eyes, he allowed his thoughts to sink into emptiness, and yet the eyes of Inuyasha's bride would not dissipate.  The depths haunted him in a way he could never imagine…

Trying to sort out his muddled thoughts, he began to reason why this girl troubled his waking hours.  To begin with, he had never met her, so why should she dominate his thoughts? Why should he even think about a thing that belonged to his worthless brother?  By aligning herself to that ignorant fool, she had consequently lowered her standard and was by no means worthy of a second thought.

Yet, Sesshoumaru scowled, she had been blessed with thirty or perhaps forty of his thoughts a day.

It was revolting.

Slamming down his clawed fists his lips formed a bitter sneer.  This was Inuyasha's wench. She was legally and probably physically bound to the bastard as well.  Why should he even give a second thought to someone else's property? Sesshoumaru had other things to worry about then the well being of the girl with sea-colored eyes. A noblewoman such as her, with no standards and few interests, was not worthy of him.

No doubt she was spoiled, bad mannered, selfish and ignorant in everyway imaginable.  Forming a wicked smirk, Sesshoumaru allowed himself to indulge in his thought.  Yes, she was probably very spoiled, and extremely rude.  She probably did not even realize the importance of the lower class and more than likely she treated them with the same respect as something fowl underneath her shoes. 

Of course, what had be been thinking?

Yet…

Yet…

There was still the whisper of change…

Frowning, he pushed the thoughts bitterly aside, and glanced through the remaining papers.

````````

Bowing deeply, Inuyasha exchanged mutual greetings towards the lord.  As usual, he arrived early at the abode of whomever he was to visit.   Now, being led through a labyrinth of shoji screens, Inuyasha wondered of whom he was to meet.  Although this lord, his guide, was leading him to this unknown person, he could not help but notice the quality of anxiety and uneasiness.  Yet, Inuyasha insisted quietly to himself, this could not be.  This lord was one of the most powerful in Japan, and few people could intimidate his sturdy frame.

"Motanai-sama," Inuyasha questioned, "Who is this guest?  Have I met him before?"

The firm and solid frame of Motanai suddenly looked sallow, sick and tired, as though for many nights a great question had hung over his head, like a dark ominous cloud.

"Not that I know of, Inuyasha-sama."  He admitted, sliding aside the final screen, and motioning him into an ornate room.

On the walls of the shoji were almost transparent tigers, their orange eyes glaring down into Inuyasha's own amber-colored orbs.  Their claws glinted in a false moonlight, and their teeth glinted with the same hunger and malice…

Glancing about the room, he found a figure dressed in a deep purple and black seated serenely near the corner.

"Excuse me," Motanai began, his hands outstretching as though he was trying to grasp this person's attention.

The figure slowly turned around, smiling a questioning sort of grin, before replying, "Excuse me, I did not hear you enter."

His voice was deep, almost strangely so.  Yet, a feminine quality overpowered his obvious masculinity.  Inuyasha could not deny that this stranger was quizzical indeed.  He was obviously male, in his features, his voice, his movement—yet there was also something so utterly sensual about his form that he required elements of an innocent female.

The being stood and walked across the room.  His movements were decisive, quick, firm and executed perfectly.  Inuyasha could not but help wonder whom the person was…how had he never met him before.

Then, he knew.  Like a great wave, his foolishness and stupidity washed over his body.

"Inuyasha-sama, I would like to present to you a great warlord like yourself: Naraku-sama." 

Slightly taken aback, Inuyasha narrowed his eyes and breathed in quickly.  So, this was the man who would decide his fate.  Was he to embrace him in war like a brother?  Or…was he to murder him, enjoying the scent of the being blood washed in the warm summer's rain.

"Ah, so you are the famous Inuyasha-sama…" Naraku questioned; his thick and sculpted eyebrows rising in amusement, "I have long been wishing to discuss a few matters."

Bowing in the customary action, Inuyasha responded, his eyes locked with the mysterious warlord, "I will see what can be done.  Yet, I have many matters to discuss with Motanai-sama."

"What are you talking about?" Motanai questioned, laughing nervously, his face flushed as though he had drunk too much wine.

"It regards our alliance."  Inuyasha replied, trying to give as little as possible away.

"Our alliance?  Do you wish to annul it?"  Motanai questioned, his wrinkles turned down in a worried frown.

Inuyasha dimly noted that Motanai had lost his edge.  Suddenly, he was an aging warlord, ready to be trampled upon by the hungry wolves.

"No.  I wish to renew it."  Inuyasha replied quietly, aware that Naraku's dark eyes were watching him intently.  He did not like the intensity…it made him feel ill at ease.

"Is that all?" Motanai laughed to himself, "But of course, I have had those arrangements all priory finished."

"What?"  Inuyasha choked noticeably.

"I must admit," Naraku began, touching Inuyasha's scarlet fabric, "That I urged Montanai-sama to go ahead, so today I may discuss matters with you as well."  His dark eyes seemed to have no reflection of the world, and Inuyasha's face seemed to dominate all he saw.

"I...," Inuyasha began hesitantly, self-consciously taking a step back.

"Oh, go on." Motanai urged jovially, walking hurriedly towards the door, as though he wished to distance himself from these two beings.

The door was slid open, and more suddenly, firmly shut.  And suddenly the two famed warlords were alone, surrounded by the tigers…

````````

A lone horseman rode swiftly along the roads, his worried face reflected in the shallow waters of the rice paddies.  It was late afternoon, and only a few farmers remained out quietly working.  A small amount of young girls looked up, and watched the handsome man pass, a wistful and quiet look in their eyes.  The fact that he was handsome only brought a greater burden to their young hearts. A thought ran through their heads, and only the elderly grandmother could say what wished to be free.

"Ah, what a pity, there goes another man lost to the wars."

And so it was.

`````````

"Would you like some tea?" Naraku offered, extending a handsomely crafted jade cup towards Inuyasha. His offer was nearly silent. Nearly. 

Taking it, and finding no words to reply, he sipped it cautiously. The cup itself was exquisite, it being very simple and Zen in design.  The prize was nearly transparent, the stone flecked with long, almost green rivers of color. Yet, he was anxious, and wished to know precisely who or what this man was.  And, specifically what his relationship to this man would be.

His expression was troubled, and he scowled notably.

Finally, he asked gruffly, "Is what they say of you true?"

"I do not know. What do they say?"  Naraku chuckled, his eyes glinting with an unknown emotion.

Adjusting from his reclined position, Inuyasha shifted his posture to squarely face the man. "That you attacked the Shizuoka prefecture—that you are unfair to the citizens of your prefecture, which you gained your power through gruesome murders and you have ruined more than one of the nobles' lives."  Inuyasha spat, in no mood for a sortie.

Whatever he had expected Naraku's actions to be was false.  In fact, it was quite the opposite in every respect.  

He laughed.

A beautiful, deep, rich laugh.  And for a moment, Naraku looked carefree and almost innocent.

"Ah? So that is what they say, eh?"  Naraku whispered, enjoying the attention, "I sound like a monster from hell, eh?"

"You still have not answered the question."  Insisted the hanyou-warlord.

"You are correct. I have not answered the question."  Naraku replied, sipping his tea, "But if I answered, would this change your opinion of me?  Would you still desire me for an ally, as you do now?"

Taken aback, Inuyasha snarled, "I never said I wanted you for an ally."

"But it is so obvious!" Naraku explained, draping himself over the back of a small piece of furniture.  "It is common knowledge that you despise your brother, Sesshoumaru—"

"Half brother."  Inuyasha corrected moodily.

"Fine, half-brother, then.  It is common knowledge you hate him and wish to obtain his prefecture.  You have been trying for long indeed.  You are at the top of the mountain, Inuyasha-sama, you may only go down.  You may only take Sesshoumaru with you—this summer is your golden opportunity."

"What do you mean?"  Inuyasha whispered, trying to smooth out his uneasiness and well as curiosity.

"You have married to a family of weapons manufactures.  You cannot tell me you married for love. No, please don't!  For if you do, I will throw this tea in your face and leave!  Yet, don't you see that you have been trying to obtain this prefecture for nearly twenty years!  Your allies grow tired of your failure, and do you think you will have them come autumn when you fail again?"

Inuyasha did not answer.  His expression was dark.

"You know this is true, Inuyasha-sama.  You know of this reserve and austere quality that your entire associates now carry.  They expect you to fail. You know what I speak of.  You know that this summer is your last chance—and you are at last prepared to defeat him! You have acquired weapons—and now all that is left to acquire is me.  I am the key to your success."

Glancing up, he found a strange expression on Naraku's face.  Throughout the speech, Naraku had moved closer and closer to him, and now he felt Naraku's cool hands surround his face, in a gentile and rough way.  Inuyasha was shocked beyond words that Naraku had dared to overstep the boundaries that the noble-class so clearly laid down. 

_Would hisi precious Inuyasha  bow down to his touch so quickly?,_ Naraku whispered, his eyes entranced by Inuyasha's pink lips, slightly open in apprehension.  He could dip his tongue down into that dangerous valley, and taste it all, taste what eluded his grasp.  How easy it would be to taste the honey…how easy…

"So?"  Naraku whispered, leaning forward, his dark curly hair mingling with Inuyasha's own, "What will it be?"

There was a dim quality in Naraku's eyes, as though they were slowly drawing Inuyasha into his world, slowly pulling him to his side.  And somehow, this seemed to be the only place he wished to be.  Sesshoumaru was long forgotten, Miroku only a memory, Kagome just—Kagome just a…just a…

…Kagome…

"I don't know," Inuyasha whispered his voice strangely weak.  With more resolve, he shifted his limbs and edged away from Naraku, "I don't know."

There was a long silence, as though Naraku was somehow planning his next attack.  Inuyasha seemed blissfully unaware, his thoughts muddled and confused.  It was all happening too fast…too quickly…

"I see."  Naraku whispered, standing up, "It is _he_ who daunts you."

"Who?"  Inuyasha questioned bitterly, his eyes annoyed and indignant, "I bow down to no one."

Naraku did not reply, instead he continued to leisurely move about the room, as though silently weighing the options.  Naraku had long since realized that the key to Inuyasha was Sesshoumaru.  Kagome was an issue indeed, but Inuyasha's hatred towards his brother ran deeper, and darker…

…. It was time to play his second card…too taunt Inuyasha's rash nature, to flaunt what he supposed was his, now supposedly owned by his worse enemy…

`````````

"Sesshoumaru-sama! Sesshoumaru-sama!" Jaken whispered hurriedly, moving through the shoji screens in irritation, his small wrinkled form gasping for breath. Nearly stumbling over his own feet, he scurried towards the great mahogany table to where Sesshoumaru was seated.

Looking up in irritation, Sesshoumaru hissed, "I told you, you must learn to get along with Rin."  His eyes were large and dilated in size, as though a great danger lingered in the worn edges of the parchment.

Then, remembering suddenly that Rin was away in the nearby town visiting friends, he allowed himself to listening to the panicking toad demon. 

Shaking his wrinkled head, Jaken gasped, "He is here! He is here!"

His interest more sparked, Sesshoumaru demanded sternly, "Who?"

"Him!  Naraku-sama!"  Jaken sputtered fitfully, his large watery eyes seemingly having increased in size.

Standing up suddenly, Sesshoumaru walked across the room, his eyes austere and giving away the unrest in his heart.  Why had he not written?  Why had he never been informed?

Yet, even before he could answer these questions on his own, his thoughts were interrupted as his eyes met with two dark orbs of mystery.

"You did not send word."  Sesshoumaru greeted, almost uncivilly, his lips sneering in indignation.

"Yes, I know, I am very sorry. Please forgive me."  Naraku replied charmingly, stepping into Sesshoumaru's private office.

"There are no forgiving rude manners."  Sesshoumaru hissed irritably, not moving from his position in the frame of the door. He was a bulwark, and would Naraku be able to break though its barriers? The meaning was clear; Sesshoumaru's office was a place that not even Naraku could enter…

"I have no time for your annoyances."  Naraku brushed aside breezily, sidestepping Sesshoumaru's frame, and entering his private domain.  A bad idea, Jaken noted.

Whirling around in indignation, Sesshoumaru hissed, "Then what do you have time for?"

"I must impose on your graciousness."  Naraku admitted, his tone sarcastic, gazing out at the view from his circular window.

"What do you mean?"

The wind from the north rattled through the house, causing the grove of bamboo to whisper in the wind.  A great storm was approaching.  

Jaken looked at his master worriedly.  Sesshoumaru was on the brink of his already thin patience; his claws were flexed, as though ready to strike the being that sailed lazily about the room.  There was no mistaking his emotions, they were bordering on rage—and once Sesshoumaru became angry…

"You will be receiving an unexpected guest for an indefinite amount of time."  Naraku finally replied, his thoughts and voice far away, as though at this very moment his attention was directed elsewhere.

"Who is this person?  Or, is it a person?"  Sesshoumaru replied icily, his voice vibrating in displeasure.

"You will see, you will see," Naraku waved breezily away.  "She will be arriving in a few minutes.  She might seem a bit ill-at-ease, but I have already brought over clothes, and they have been put away in the eastern bedroom."

Glancing over his shoulder, Naraku cast a slightly amused expression towards the youkai lord.  His form screamed sexuality; dressed in an attire of black and silver.  The black hakama gently swished against the tatami mats, his glossy hair splashing over his ebony happi, his dark eyes glinting in the filtered light of mid-day.  

_Come come, Sesshoumaru, let me see a spark of curiosity…let me see an emotion…let me see the anger which has already engulfed your soul…let me see your true self, and not this mask of an emotionless samurai…_

Sesshoumaru said nothing, but glared at Naraku, his face detached.  Yet, his form had stiffened, as though the youkai was prepared for a bloody battle, prepared to tackle the being of evil that now, so stealthily, made his way towards him.

"I know, I know, you are displeased.  Yet," Naraku lied, "So am I…but these things must be done.  You wish for the sword, do you not?"

Sesshoumaru did not reply, yet again.  His golden eyes bore deeply into Naraku's emotionless depths, trying to untangle the mystery of this unruly lord.

"I must go," Naraku admitted, "Please forgive my rudeness for not actually coming in person."

Slightly off guard, Sesshoumaru opened his mouth to question.  Yet, before he could, the vision of Naraku faded away—and he realized that Naraku's powers stretched far indeed.  So, Naraku had brought a puppet of his own self.  This proved how much the alliance was worth indeed…but then, of course, Sesshoumaru pondered; probably both were aware that this alliance was only out of convenience.  He could not ignore the attention that Naraku gave him, and the fact that his dark eyes, even in the night, watched him from an unseen vista.

So, a veiled woman would arrive at his fortress?  Grimacing, Sesshoumaru thought darkly,_ As soon as one leaves, another takes her place._

Would he ever find a moment alone? A time to sort out his muddled thoughts? No, he realized, until this ultimate conflict between his brother was finally resolved, there would be no time for quiet afternoons, no time for reveries…no time for…anything…

His clawed fists tightened in anger—another woman, probably an ignorant girl of some overfed warlord.  And how long would he have to put up with the wench? Indefinite!  Had the gates of his manner been so easily stained by the likes of Naraku?

Scowling, he glared down at Jaken, and whispered icily, "I will not return until this evening."

Shivering in fear, Jaken whispered, his withered lips quivering, "Yes, Sesshoumaru-sama…"

`````````

Sitting blankly on the porch, Kagome watched the sun slowly set beyond the hills, casting the late afternoon sky into shades of brilliant orange and gold.  Blinking back from the intensity of it all, she gazed down at the cup of now tepid tea and picked it up, gently swirling its contents.

Standing up and walking around the back of the pavilion, she gazed at the barren landscape, covered with trampled plants and grasses, now slightly brown from lack of attention from the past few weeks.

A warm wind from the south gently pulled at her strands of hair.  It was the deception before the storm, the hopes for the mild rather than the cool and harsh weather that the storm brought in.  Kagome was aware of the dark clouds looming just above the mountaintops, and soon the rain would revive the plants, and she would return to her abode, ready to plan any possible way to avoid the war, which seemed as eminent as the clouds.  Yet, Kagome apprehended, her efforts were a lost cause like the warm wind from the south.  No matter what she did they would always arise and fall upon her. These problems…

Closing her eyes, she tried to escape, to flee to a place faraway. Beyond the mountains, above the clouds, to where her happiness lay...

A wind from the north blew across the courtyard, lifting the dust and dirt about her figure.  Letting down her bound hair, she spread her arms and embraced the bone chilling cold.  This trip to the Shizuoka prefecture had been a turning point during her life.  There had been many such experiences throughout the years; the dreaded wake up calls.

The first had been when she was eight years old, and all she wished to do was play, run, and help the peasants.  Yet, her mother held the key to her future, and never, the woman had said, would it reside side by side with the peasants.

The second epiphany had come when she was sixteen, two years ago, when the suitors had begun like a great wave.  Her future had been decided yet again, and this time it was her family to decide whom the person would be.

Now, finally, she was here…a place where only she could control her destiny, a place where all actions and decisions were her choice and her choice alone…

…it was daunting…

Opening her eyes, she found that it was that strange time in during the day where the color of light still glimmered like that of the golden afternoon, yet the sky was that of early dusk.  A chill swept around her, not an unpleasant one, and she closed her eyes yet again…

 A cool embrace surrounded her so tenderly that she had mistaken the touch for the wind.  Yet upon opening her eyes, she looked down and saw a pale hand wound about her waist.  Glancing up in astonishment and fear, she found herself looking into a brutally handsome face that now glared at her with menacing and deranged eyes.  His long curly locks blew in the wind across his pale face, alit with his dark and dangerous eyes.  His plump lips now formed a wicked smile as he tightened his hold about her, one hand reaching within her yukata and squeezing at her breast.

Opening her mouth to scream, she found that she could not as the man wound his other hand about her. 

"Kagome, like a little sparrow, you are so easy to capture."

Her eyes wide in fear she protested and began to struggle, yet to no avail.

"I think not, my dear."  The man whispered into her ear.

Bending slightly, the man prepared to what it seemed like to leap, and when he straightened his legs Kagome found the wind whipping about her as she flew high into the air.  

The last thing she remembered before the drugs she inhaled came to work, was looking up and to the north the great storm clouds swept into the valley like a broken damn.

````````````

Stepping out into the barren courtyard Sango looked down at the shattered teacup, and the remnants of tea now seeping into the dry ground.  Continuing to study the shattered remnants, a great fear slowly began to soak over her heart.

"Please…no," Sango whispered closing her eyes.

Calling out Kagome's name, asking her servant, looking through the grounds; she could not be found. Kagome had vanished…

It was as she had feared, Sango thought bitterly, rocking herself gently on the porch steps, pricks of tears forming in her eyes; Kagome had been taken by Naraku, the enemy.  And now, it was her duty to wrench her from the darkness where she was traveling towards, and bring her once more to bask in the light of morning.  

A determined look flashed across her face, and she knew that Kagome had to be found.  Standing up she swiftly made her way towards her quarters and quickly slung her bone boomerang over her shoulder.  

Calling towards the servant, she lied terribly that Kagome had left towards Edo, and that she was following in pursuit.  Sango hated being deceitful, yet the whole situation had to be left in the dark for as soon as possible.  If Inuyasha found out…

Shivering in apprehension she made her way across the darkened courtyard, slinking in-between the graves of her family.

It was both time for her revenge, and the greatest performances of her life…

Stumbling to the ground as she tripped over an object, and instead of falling to the earth, she fell into someone's outstretched arms.  A cold chill ran down her spin as her skin met the cool hands of an unknown being. The night was both quiet and warm, uninterrupted by her scream as some unknown figure of the dark grasped her close, covering her open mouth with his firm hands, and drawing her into the shadows.

`````````

Naraku turned towards the young hanyou-lord and said in a serious voice, "Inuyasha, there is something that I have been meaning to show you…"

Inuyasha, blinking in confusion and distrust, said nothing as he idly watched the new acquaintance move about the room.

Naraku's mysterious eyes met the tumultuous golden orbs of Inuyasha, his voice dark and morbid, "Unfortunately, it cannot be moved from its present location."

"What is it?"  Inuyasha asked, trying to gruffly hide the curiosity in his tone.

"It is my greatest treasure," the dark being whispered, casting his eyes downward.

Inuyasha turned his back towards the warlord and sneered, "Oh well isn't too bad, eh?  Guess I won't be able to see it.  I'm all torn up inside."

_The true side of you, hm, Inuyasha?  You will not last long…and that is the beauty of life, isn't it?  Death is inevitable, like the changing of the seasons…_

"Then why not accompany me back to my mountain fortress?  I believe that if we become allies this treasure will suit your needs just perfectly."  Naraku questioned earnestly, kneeling near Inuyasha's figure, their faces not one foot away.

Almost too quickly, as though he has expected the question, Inuyasha retorted, "That will not be possible. I have many obligations, as well as the rest of my tour to Sapporo."

Naraku nodded, and exhibited a troubled expression, "Yes, that is troublesome indeed."

"However much I would like to see whatever it is you want to show me, I have other obligations."  Inuyasha added, gazing out the window at the clouded sky.

"Do you really wish to see it so much?"  Naraku replied curiously, leaning even closer.

"Do you question my authority?"  Inuyasha replied, grinning, as he used one of his favorite lines.

"No, I suppose I don't."  The lord replied in turn, a grin painted on his own façade as well.

Heaving a great sigh, Naraku grinned, "I am glad to here you say that."

"What?"

"It was a test, don't you see?"

"No, not really."

"I had to see how much you wished for this alliance.  I have judged you, and now you may look upon it."  Naraku concluded, standing and swiftly walking to the opposite end of the room opening a thin shoji screen, which covered a great lacquered five-panel partition.  Folding the panels, a great glowing lit the darkened room Inuyasha was sitting within.

Inuyasha's golden eyes opened in curiosity and astonishment.  Any cautions were completely forgotten as the warm –bluish light called out to him.  Stepping forward, almost in a trance, Inuyasha neared the silver bowl.

"What do you wish to see, hm, Inuyasha-sama?"

````````````

It was nearly midnight when Sesshoumaru quietly slipped into his study and fell before his desk, massaging his temples.  The night had been a blur, a mixture of blood and ample moonlight from the waxing orb engulfing the landscape.  It had been years since he had found himself so enraged that he had to kill without mercy—for no purpose, with no will.

Turning his head slowly, a grim expression crossed over his impassive features, "What is it, Jaken?"

The small toad demon cowered forward, and whispered, "She demands…"

Raising one of his eyebrows, it took Sesshoumaru a moment to realize who and what Jaken was speaking of, and the purpose behind why he had gone out into the night to hunt.

 "What?"  Sesshoumaru questioned irritably, "What are you talking about?"

Covering his hands over his head, Jaken burst out in a voice laced with fear, "She demands your presence, Sesshoumaru-sama!  She will not go to sleep—or even keep quiet, until she sees the master of the house!"

Grumbling a few bitter words under his breath, Sesshoumaru replied, "Where is she?"

Whispering in a barely audible voice, "The dining room…the cooks fed her…"

Standing up, against every bit of common sense that he held, Sesshoumaru slowly made his way towards the dining hall.  Mildly curious of what royal brat Naraku had planted in his abode; he unconsciously quickened his step.

A face filled with fear and sadness met his eyes, the large dark blue eyes wide in surprise.  

The last person that Sesshoumaru, the lord of the western lands, had expected to see was Kagome, the wife of his bastard stepbrother…

END PART I

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AN: *wheh* was that long enough for everyone? I think this was a record chapter, I swear! It took me a total of 4 very boring days to write this chapter.  Next chapter begins what I call the "All is Fair in Love and War", consisting of warfare, more romance, and more brutality. Sound fun? Oh! You guessed it! Also, more Kikyou! So, either get out the holy water or the pedestal all your Kikyou lovers/haters. (*hides behind her UFO of Se-chan*  I myself am I Kikyou hater…demo, I write her so nicely, ne?)

Also, I am soooo sorry about 1.) In the last chapter, those few mistakes 2.) the paragraph of DOOM! I tried to load it on my aunts' computer, but she did not have word 200 (~_~;;) , so I could not load it correctly. And two, the computer crashed before I could save, and I forgot that, and just uploaded without looking at it. I am so sorry.

Anyways, look forward to the next chapter where.

1.) Inuyasha falls into Naraku's evil snare

2.) Kikyou appears (Yay?) (NAY!)

3.) The Sesshoumaru/Kagome relationship begins, whether good or bad 

4.) And the author is further embarrassed by her stupid mistakes, mis-spellings, and idiotic problems that are simply her.

Cappie

Check out my site

and also check out…(the *best* HYD romance I had read in a long time!)


	11. a transparent facade

AN: well, I decided to take a break with the action in this chapter. For all your Sesshoumaru and Kagome fans, enjoy this lovely little bit I wrote for them, or at least, I wrote, and there happened to be them in it. Alone. He he he. I am sooo evil. Anyways, hmmm… here you go! 

Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

PART II

Chapter 12

The transparent façade   
  


Gazing quietly out at the surrounding countryside she found that at all times of day the never ending mountain ranges, arising like bubbles from a boiling pot, could be beautiful beyond all belief. The pine and cedar trees blended perfectly with the brushy oak and birch. There was something very untamed and dramatic about this vista. Always she had been in the valleys gazing up at this grandeur wondering what life was like from the vista. Now, in the strangest of circumstances she found herself contentedly gazing down at the brilliantly green valleys. Like a large go-board, the fertile land had been cut and divided into perfect geometrical shapes. Gentile rain clouds now washed over the hills, at times covering the very tips of the gently rolling mounds. Like a Chinese scroll, the mountains faded into the horizon, their colors of a gentle blue contrasting perfectly with the forest green of the foreground and the porcelain blue of countless distant vistas. Despite the fact that it was nearly the forth month of the year there was still a slight bite to the air that required light garments. 

It had been two weeks since Kagome had been whisked away to this mountain fortress in what she had learned was the famed beauty of the western lands. Her life had quickly settled into a steady rhythm, despite her best wishes for it to prove unpredicted in everyway.

That night two weeks ago…that night she had feared for her life and wore the mask of strength as best she could. Yet the fact remained that when the shoji screens slowly opened a great shiver had run down her spine like ice-cold water. Her mouth had parted only slightly, yet her eyes grew wide in incredulity. The famed youkai of the western lands seemed a mirror image of her husband… 

The two faced one another, one the dark, expressionless and although utterly surprised by the presence of Inuyasha's wench, he gaze no indication of his undoing. The other, the glowing light, sat paralyzed, her hands resting quietly in her lap, her large cerulean eyes wide in surprise and slight horror.

Sesshoumaru spoke coolly, and questioned, "What is it, wench?"

That, like a new piece of fuel to the fire, brought her back to life, and she quickly turned away a deep flush of anger and embarrassment rising to her cheeks. After some moments, she answered resolutely, "I wish for you to release me, and I demand an escort back to my husband's fortress."

Amused, and rather impressed by the girls' brazen and undaunted nature, Sesshoumaru entered the room and slowly walked to the opposite end to enjoy the view of the moonlit garden.

"That is not in my hands."

Snapping irritably, Kagome had demanded, "What do you mean, it's not in your hands? Am not I in your domain? Don't you have control?"

Turning to face her, Sesshoumaru allowed their eyes to meet, and he considered them absorbedly as he replied resolutely, "My authority has nothing to do with these circumstances. It was not I, or my men, who kidnapped you."

Taken aback, Kagome whispered, "What? Then why am I here?"

Heaving an irritated sigh, Sesshoumaru walked across the length of the room, and snarled, "Listen to me, wench, you are to stay under my roof. However, other than that, I have nothing to do with you. Do you comprehend that?"

Surprising herself, Kagome snapped in turn, standing abruptly and walking towards his frame, nearly yelling in his face, "No, I don't! Moreover, why should I? If you want nothing to do with me, then send me on my way, and I may go, and leave you and this house in peace!"

Making no reply, but bestowing upon her an angry scowl, Sesshoumaru turned on his heel and quickly walked out of the room, sliding the screens sharply as he exited.

Saying not a word, Kagome slowly sat down and buried her face in her palms. 

Her shoes crunched along the gravel of the deserted gardens and hummed a familiar tune. Her days now seemed to mirror her life when she was living under Inuyasha's roof. The man, the key to her freedom, would depart for the day and leave her, like a caged bird, in the compounds of the house. It was not as though Kagome did not enjoy exploring his lands, it was just it was a great burden on her heart to know that Sango and soon Miroku would know of her disappearance—and then her husband, and the war was more inevitable then ever. 

Leaning against a great rustic pillar, Kagome sighed silently to herself. Even if she now knew of the situation between Sesshoumaru and Inuyasha, (as well as the history behind this war), there was still an unsettled matter that hung heavy in the air. This mysterious issue of Naraku…

For the past two weeks, Kagome had been trying to fit the pieces together, and although there were many gaps and holes, she had managed a rough copy. Slowly and meticulously, she ran off the facts like a list through her head.

To begin with, Sesshoumaru and Inuyasha obviously had a great misunderstanding some twenty years before—for although she did not know the lord of the eastern lands well, Kagome knew that this man abided by strict morals and would never sink so low as to kill his despised brothers lover. To sort out that first problem would solve many issues—and possibly bring a temporary peace. Secondly, there was the issue of the inherited swords. Although Kagome did not know the details, she was aware that for some reason Sesshoumaru was dissatisfied with his own possession and desired his brothers instead. Finally, and most disturbingly, there was this issue of Naraku. It was supposed that this being had been around much longer than it was initially believed—so obviously the being had been waiting for something, or something to mature and come of age. What or who it was…Kagome had not an inkling…

Side stepping a butterfly larva on the ground beneath her, Kagome resolved that she would go in search of Sesshoumaru, and if the lord could not be found, well, perhaps Kagome might better survey the lands in hopes of an escape. 

Admitting for the first time that these were indeed her long-range plans, Kagome faced them like a rock against an angry sea. She could only weather the blows, but in the end, she would escape from this place—be it dead, or alive. Life was something Kagome was learning quickly—life was something more fragile then petals in the wind. She would not live forever—and would her fate and future make such an impact on the world? Kagome was a realist in every possible way, and admitting that she did not wish death, she also acknowledged the death of a noble woman (and so many noble woman of the house of Higurashi had come before her) would in the end not be so time altering as it appeared.

Kagome was a female, the lesser species—and she had fully come to acknowledge this truth, however painful the medication had been. 

Making her way towards the rear of the house, skirting around the large and formal gardens that were meticulously kept beautiful year round, Kagome found a small well beaten path, meandering in and out of the great large pine and cedar trees. Glancing cautiously over her shoulder, her eyes searching for any detection of movement—she speedily moved into the protective barrier of brush, and made her way along the worn and still moist earth.

Finding that not much vegetation grew beneath the trees, and henceforth causing her form to be plainly seen through the great gaps of the forest, she quickened her step finding the terrain to be leading uphill. For a period of about half an hour, all she heard was the whistling of leaves between the pine needles and the far off chirping of birds.

A thin layer of sweat formed on her face, and she found the large and bulky kimono to be annoying as she continued her journey on the incline.

As she continued to walk, a new sound became apparent, and as she walked it became louder in volume. At first, the sound was like that of the distant ocean yet slowly each murmur grew more distinct, and Kagome realized, feeling quite foolish afterwards, that the sound was that of a nearby brook hidden in the underbrush.

The cool, clear and icy mountain waters were appealing to her overheated body, yet she continued on to some unseen and unknown goal.

The trees began to thin and wild grasses began to appear on either sides of the small pathway. The light grew brighter as well, and glancing up she saw that it must be perhaps three in the afternoon.

Coughing slightly, Kagome continued her struggle; her head lowered gazing at her feet intently.

The next instant she looked up, and was blinded by the strong sun spread over body and onto the waist tall grasses that bordered her on either side. Turning about in confusion and realization that she had strayed upon a mountainous meadow (surrounded on all sides by the thick protection of pine trees) she smiled softly to herself. The brook was still present, although hardly seen by the amount and length of the grass that surrounded her. Deciding that this was the end of today's journey, she set off into the forest of grass to find the stream that had been evading her parched throat for some time. Kneeling gratefully by its self, Kagome sincerely considered shedding the tiresome kimono and bathing in the icy waters of the stream. The thought was tempting, yet even in this unpopulated place she felt as though someone, somewhere was watching her move.

Shivering at the dark thoughts, despite the brilliancy of the light, Kagome took a long cool drink and sat by the side of the stream for sometime, her eyes closed, utterly relaxed. 

When she opened her eyes, again the light had faded somewhat, or at least changed its tone to that of the golden afternoon. Sitting up, she cautiously looked about, before climbing to her feat and wading through the tall grasses and towards the small worn path and down into the refuge of the dark and earthy forest, she sped downhill towards the fortress of Sesshoumaru. Casting one glance over her shoulder at the fading meadow, Kagome decided that this meadow was the key to her escape, and the next day she would find a way off the blasted mountain.

Smiling to herself, she hardly noticed the blurred form a few hundred meters behind her.   
  


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The room was dark and cool in the evening light. Even with the oil lamps burning, Kagome still felt dark and alone in the dining room. The walls, despite their light colors, seemed to box her in, and it was only when she looked towards the veranda (now open to the garden) that this feeling escaped her.

She knew what was happening.

She was the bird transferred to a new cage. Not necessarily a better cage, just different. Kagome knew what she must do. She had to escape, before she became used to her surroundings, before she gave in without a struggle.

Allowing her perfect posture to waver, she leaned against the dark oak table, and allowed her eyes to study the view of the garden. 

Although it was not similar to her husbands, she did admit there were the same elements. The water, the rock, the overhanging trees and the mosses—all were similar in form, in function. Yet, Kagome figured, it was probably that most gardens looked like this. 

As the old Japanese saying went, 'The nail that stands up, get smashed down'. Perhaps these two brothers were not as daring as they both imagined. Perhaps they did not have such courage.

The gentle murmur of water stopped as the bamboo fell back on itself after releasing its pent of liquid. Murmur. Plop. Murmur. Plop.

Shaking her head slightly, she moved her attention away from the garden and back within the room. Yet, the room only oppressed her even more. And so, burying her head in her hands, she closed her eyes and thought intently.

The terrain of this mountain top abode was cumbersome indeed. Situated about a half of the way towards the top, if she chose to climb over the mountain she would not make it far at all. She could only go down. Yet, she could not go west, for that was where the main road lay. Kagome was already aware she was an easy target. This only left eastward and down into the valley.

The path she had taken earlier on in the day had extended farther; she knew that. Yet, the path died further on at next hill that would be ill indeed. 

Kagome, resolving silently to herself that she would take the path again the following day, and determine where exactly her future lay.

The doors behind her slid open, and stiffening heard the rustle of fabric as the lord of the hosue stepped into the dining room. A scent followed him as he walked slowly towards his spot at the head of the table. It was an earthy scent, yet dark and sweet at the same time. The scent of money, and the scent of nature as well…

Closing her eyes, Kagome tried to distinguish and classify each odor. Yet, it was impossible.

Opening her dark eyes, she gazed at him, rather astonished that he had ventured to eat with her after that first debate when she had arrived two weeks ago. Since that time, she had discovered that he took his meals late in the evening so as there would be no possibility for their paths to cross.

Yet why was he taking great pains to avoid her? Surely, nothing she could say or do would change his resolve. There was no way to hurt him.

Opening her mouth to begin some form of intercourse, she closed it suddenly as the doors behind her once again opened at the servants entered, their arms full of trays of deliciously smelling food.

So ill timed was their arrival, that it made Kagome ill at ease—as though these people were trying to halt conversation in any way possible. As though her very influence would cause great confusion and agony.

Once they had left, leaving their trademark of delicious food in assorted spices and garnishees, Kagome took the bowl of miso soup, and about to place it in front of her, she paused and cast a side-glance towards the area in front of Sesshoumaru. What would he say, she wondered, if she placed the bowl down before of him? Would he believe that he had already mastered her? Would he be touched by her kindness? Or…did he actually expect her to serve him?

"Are you going to put the miso down or not?" His voice questioned, indifferent, though she detected a faint trace of amusement.

Flushing, she angrily placed it down in front of him before bitterly grabbing her own. From now on, Kagome vowed, the demon lord could serve himself.

Picking up her chopsticks (well, at least she presumed it was hers because they always gave her the lacquered ones decorated in red, white, and pink.

Gazing at their pattern, she smirked self consciously, as she found that these chopsticks somehow meant more than they initially appeared to. Inuyasha, her husband, her lord was the deep scarlet; his cool and refined brother was the pearly white. And now, she was passed between the two of them, picking up their colors, and creating her own.

Frowning, she ate her miso soup, and mentally told herself that she needed to leave before she started reading fortunes from tealeaves.

"Is there something amusing about the chopsticks? Do they offend you in some way?" Sesshoumaru questioned, not looking up as he chewed on a piece of tofu in a thoughtful manner. 

Flushing yet again, Kagome gave a disgusted _expression when she realized that this lord had been watching her. 

"It's none of your business, Sesshoumaru-_sama,_" Kagome retorted, slurping her soup down and slamming it on the table.

"Oh? Is that so?" he questioned, placing his chopsticks down onto of his bowl, and giving his complete attention to the girl who was now seated ahead of him. 

Sesshoumaru wanted to see her fall. He wanted to see her resort to the typical wining of the female sex, he wanted to see her arrange flowers, and fret about the fashions. He wanted to see her worry about her hair, her makeup; he wanted her not to be so beautiful, he wanted to see her cry. Then, and only then, when those tears fell down her pretty face, would be completely satisfied. No woman could be so strong…none. 

"Yes. It is." Kagome fumed, dishing out a piece of broiled unagi for herself, and applying a bit of smoky sauce onto its grilled edges. She had not realized how hungry she was. "If I am forced to stay here then I feel I have the right to look at your utensils in whatever fashion I please."

Allowing his lips to form a soft, if not pitying smile, he whispered, "You are certainly spirited. What I have heard about you is no lie."

Sipping some tea, and somewhat calmer now, Kagome replied, "I am sure. The fact that I am married to your brother—"

"Half brother," Sesshoumaru corrected sternly.

"The fact that I am married to your half brother allows my life to be more free compared to most noble-women. He does not care for me, and allows me greater freedom than any married woman can expect." She stated simply, avoiding his gaze somewhat. It seemed suddenly cold, and goose bumps began to appear on her covered arm. Was Sesshoumaru having this affect on her? His countenance this evening was so different from the one she had discovered previously. 

Sesshoumaru finished his miso soup and served himself a cup of green tea.

"Lying does not suit you," he admitted, his face impassive, as he sipped at his cup, "You, know that you are property—all women are, and as such you are being traded and bought. It will only be until later that my idiotic half brother realizes what fertile and valuable land he possessed."

Wrenching her head down she gazed at her steamy unagi and said nothing for sometime as she continued to eat the heavenly food. 

But…he _was_ right. Women _were _property. Women would always be property. She should not delude herself anymore. She was female; she could do nothing, even if she struggled all her life. Such was the way of this society. 

"You're right," she finally whispered, gazing at Sesshoumaru, a sad smile on her face. 

Sesshoumaru would be the last to admit that he was stunned, or shocked easily. Only a few times in his life had he ever shown emotion when this emotion swept over him. Yet, in most cases he could keep a passive face, meaning nothing, like a perpetual mask. It took every muscle that he possessed not to gaze at this girl, wide eyed, questioning repeatedly.

How could she live with this burden?

A female could not hold such a naturalistic view of the world; a female could not allow herself to think that poorly of her kind. To think of their gender as more, as something beautiful—this was their survival. It was their way of life that saved them from all committing suicide—it allowed them to have a life; it gave them meaning. And now, she had blown him nearly to the ground with those two words. 

"I see…" he managed, before pouring himself another cup and ending all conversation for the evening. 

````````````````````

Gazing out into the mild night, Kagome closed her eyes and inhaled the deep and dark night air. It was relaxing; the scent, like a memory from her childhood. It clung to her lovingly, and slowly the stresses of the day, of the past months, left her body. For one moment she felt completely relaxed in the fortress of her enemy. 

His manner, despite how cold and rude, relaxed her as well. He did not skirt about the subjects, but like the strength of his sword, cut through to the important aspect. The paramount part.

_"You are property."_

Closing her eyes, she smiled sadly, and whispered, "But whose am I now?"

```````````````````` 

The rainwashed over the grand fortress of the Lord of the Western Lands. The drains overflowed and splashed down into the gravel basins that swept down the hills, forming miniature rivers, in which boats made of leaves, and junks made of sticks floated precariously down. No animal remained in the woods, even those who emerged at night. All knew of the danger of this great transitional storm—it was time for the annual spring rain. No snow would fall, for it was too late in the year, yet the rainfall would be cold and significant. The great mountain rivers swelled like a pregnant woman's belly in her last weeks. Even the dried riverbeds sprung to life, as though touched by the gods themselves.

Leaning against the pillar, Kagome absently wondered what time it was. They said the darkest hour was before dawn, and now she would agree. Of course, if the stars had been out, she would have been able to tell immediately, but as they were covered from her site, she had no indication.

Shivering as the wind swept through her chamber, she wished for something heavier and warmer for her journey. Yet she knew the layers of the kimono she was presented with would prove cumbersome as she tried to escape from Sesshoumaru's clawed grasp.

She planned to escape, down the mountainside, and return back to the Shizuoka prefecture and then to her husband's fortress.

No one would expect her to leave tonight—to do that would be foolish, idiotic even. Yet, Kagome realized, she had to take that risk and die trying. Death was inevitable—and she hoped that if she not prove successful in this quest she would die quickly so as not to experience any pain. 

Stepping out into the rain filled gardens, she snuck quietly along the stepping stone paths and towards the rear of the house. She did not know when Sesshoumaru slept, and so it was careful that at she be quiet until she was a safe distance from the fortress. 

_This will take longer than I expected…_ Kagome thought darkly, and quickening her steps, she waded out into the mud and towards the dark and frightening forest.

_I must succeed._

_````````````_

Did she actually believe that she could escape? Was she under the impression that he, Sesshoumaru, the Lord of the Western Lands, had not expected this tactic? He was the master of war, he knew nearly every trick in the book—and the girl believed she could fool him! It was almost amusing, if not sad.

Like a bird dying slowly, he would have to put her out of her pain.

Running a hand through his long hair, he smirked silently as he eyed the warmth of the glowing coals at the fireplace. How they temped them with their ginger flecked depths. The book yearned for his touch; his mouth desired the sake at his lips—yet this girl, this girl was already controlling his actions.

Disgusting.

Pausing, Sesshoumaru thought for a moment, and an idea, like the water outside, rushed suddenly through his head.

_I will let her believe she has escaped…and then, when she is most vulnerable, I will trap her…_

Yes, that was the way to ensnare the girl. Feign innocence at all times. It was true of Naraku, so why not of this girl, Kagome?

Settling himself down, he sipped his sake, and continued to read the Tale of Genji. It was mediocre, at least, for a book written by humans.

Grinning, Sesshoumaru allowed his thoughts to linger on the actions in the real world, outside the book. Kagome was probably soaking wet, gaining a fever rapidly, and scratched from the wet and wild brush. Yet, she desired freedom, and he would see how much it cost to attain. 

_She will never dare try once more._

_````````````````_

Kagome let out a cry of pain as a strong branch crashed against her branch like a whip. Falling towards the heavily forested ground, Kagome found rocks that she had not known existed before. They cut into her skin, and she could feel the trickle of blood coming dangerously close to her wrist. 

"I must succeed," she whispered, slowly crawling forward, her yukata nearly undone. 

There was no time for niceties. By dawn, she must be off the god-forsaken mountain. By dawn, she had to be out of his grasp, however comforting it seemed right now.

Standing up slowly, she gazed about in the storm, nearly blinded by the wind and the pelting rain. Kagome head reached the meadow at last—yet somehow it had turned into a swamp by the flooded stream. Up to her shins in murky water, she lifted her skirt and trudged bitterly on in the direction she had taken earlier that afternoon.

Those events suddenly seemed so far away—as though they took place years and years ago. Now she was in a feverish hell…

As she continued her journey across the marshy meadow, and down the steep and slippery cloak, she kept her mind occupied to pass the time and injuries better. Already she knew that her yukata was ripped in several places, and her arm was bleeding in two areas, as well as her head. 

_Naraku is in on this whole plan…but why is it that I was kidnapped? Sesshoumaru said that he had nothing to do with it, didn't he? If he does not care about me, and is not using me as bait for Inuyasha, then who is?_

She slipped and fell into the mud, covered with fallen tree limbs.

_Damn! _

Coughing slightly, and wiping the dirt from her mouth, she continued resolutely, following a swollen river that had appeared by her side.

_Water finds the easiest way to the sea…if I follow it, I make escape yet. _

Glancing about, she shivered, and realized that she was crying.

_Keep your mind busy, Kagome! Sesshoumaru expects you to fail! You must prove him wrong!_

However, it is not as if he is really _my _enemy. Only my husband's. Why should I care what he thinks of me?

_You do not care about what Sesshoumaru thinks. You only care about getting out of here, and finding Sango, and Miroku, and a place to get warm._

Then why does your heart long to return to that mountaintop? Is it because you find peace there, as you had never expected?

_I find peace nowhere. My life will be forever of turmoil. Even if I did feel happy, it was temporary, as is life. Now, leave me in peace, I must keep my mind busy._

So, you will not think about the Lord of the Western Lands, and his house of peace?

_No, so I may realize who is plotting against my husband._

Nevertheless, you already know, Kagome…you already know…

_What _are_ you talking about?_

Think about it. If it is not Sesshoumaru, who else may it be? Do not you remember the piece of wood painted black on Inuyasha's map?

_Well…red must be Inuyasha, and white…Sesshoumaru…and black…_

And black…?

_…Black must be… Naraku._

Very good, Kagome, you win an award. Ping Pong.

Lightening sparked through the sky, and she stumbled back in surprise. Kagome felt air surround her before she fell into a riverbed slowly filling with water from higher up the mountain. The figure did not get up, or even move. She was knocked unconscious.

_``````````````````````_

It was one of the strongest storms Sesshoumaru had ever witnessed or felt. Even he, with his youkai powers and strength, felt weak and powerless against the brute force of nature.

Scowling as the wind caused his hair to whip in his face, he lifted his nosed and sniffed the air for her distinctive scent, like that of lilacs and clean blossoms. It was faint, and weak, as he was sure was her disposition. The girl could not have gone far.

Yet the scent was not strong enough! The wind and rain had scattered it about the countryside, and so by the way things looked, the girl had traveled in as many as five directions. Something, almost like the emotion of fear, overwhelmed him for one terrifying moment. As though this girl meant everything to him.

_Do not fall so easily, Sesshoumaru, do not lust after someone else's trash._

Remembering from earlier in that sun filled afternoon that she had found his private sanctuary, the meadow, he began to the climb, slipping a few times in the wet and slimy dirt. 

_Damn this wench_, he cursed angrily to himself. What had he been thinking? Why did he even find this game of cat and mouse amusing? Why was he going out of his way to help her—Inuyusha's bitch? 

Upon reaching the open, marshy plane of the meadow, he gazed out into the turbulent and now somewhat lighter surroundings. Dawn was slowly, and painfully approaching.  Protecting his eyes, he sniffed for her scent once again.  Obviously, his instincts had proven right, for now the smell was stronger. Still weak, yet it has intensified somewhat. 

_Women and their perfume make such an easy target. _

Stepping through the marsh, he eyed the dark forest down below.  The path led here, and there was nothing left to do but follow.  Naraku would be furious, but then, Naraku was not his master, no more so than the bastard Inuyasha.

Why the hell was he doing this?

Scowling, he set off into the wild. 

_````````````````````_

The figure, nearly chest high in water, opened her blue eyes and gazed about into the storm of utmost gray and darkness.  She was cold, and wet, and strangely hot and feverish at the same time.  Trying to move her hands, she found that the water had somewhat slowed the bleeding, although leaving her lightheaded.    Gazing above her head, she grasped at a root and tried to force herself out of the brown water.

_This cannot end here, on the middle of a mountain.  Eventually, I will have to do something, and get out of here.  _

_I am not so weak as he assumes._

Using every bit of energy she possessed, Kagome forced herself out of the swarming water, and stumbled along the ravine for a period of ten minutes looking for a spot in which she could climb out.  This was a task indeed.

Her yukata was now completely undone, revealing her bare skin beneath it.  Her woven shoes now washed down stream, and eventually to reach the ocean.  Her hair, which had at one point been tied back, now fell over her shoulders, sopping wet by the interminable rain.

Coughing slightly, Kagome finally managed to return back onto the land, and to where she had been some many hours ago.  

She had few thoughts now, expect one, which urged her to continue, to flee like the bird she was.  To find her happiness over the next hill, beyond the bend in the engorged river, beyond the horizon…

`````````````````````

He found her in the first hours of dawn, stumbling down a gentle incline towards a valley.  A few more minutes, and she might have escaped.  He almost felt bad when he saw her ragged figure blindly stepping forward, unaware of direction—but her purpose certain, to escape him.

Everyone wished to escape from him eventually. It was his curse, set about by his father.

The affects were similar to that of drunkenness. Therefore, stepping quietly behind her, he placed his hands on her shoulder, only to find her shrug them off, and continue on his way.  

Walking beside her, he angrily grabbed his hands.  He had no time for this.  He was angry and soaked to the bone, because of this girl and her foolishness.  This girl was an idiot, however brave.

"What the hell are you doing?"  He whispered in a dangerously low voice that would have sent most people over the edge and begging for their forgiveness.

"Let me go, Sesshoumaru.  Just let me go."  She howled like a wounded dog.

Snatching her hand bitterly away, Kagome continued to walk, a little more composed now, towards the meadow, into the forest, and to the small village.  Her refuge from him.

It would not be so easy.

Gazing down at his fingers, he saw them stained deep red.  Loss of blood, a fever, and exhaustion—she was surviving only on her basic instincts, and those included being uncivil towards him.  Sesshoumaru did not know whether to be furious at the girl, or amused.

"You will come with me now."  He began again, grabbing both hands this time, so it would be harder for her to escape.  

Kagome now faced him, her eyes dark, fully aware of the disheveled and immodest exposure of her body.  She was practically nude, the yukata nearly coming off her shoulder, and exposing much of her torso.

"And why should I come, Sesshoumaru-_sama_?  Why should I go with you?"  Kagome yelled angrily, wincing as his grip tightened, causing her to become even more aware of her injuries.

"You are coming, because I say so."  Sesshoumaru snarled, leaning forward, his eyes admitting all the anger and rage he had experienced in the past hours.

Above, lightening shot through the sky, illuminating the marks of dirt on Kagome's face and the danger in Sesshoumaru's expression.

Glancing casually down, Sesshoumaru had to quickly avoid his gaze when he saw her bare and blemished skin due to the mountainside.  Yet, the lustrous quality still remained, now glittering with raindrops.

"Why don't you just rape me, because you already think me a whore?  You have no respect for me, do you Sesshoumaru-_sama? _In addition, here I am, weak, and fragile, so why not?  Naraku plans to kill me, I am sure, and you will not disobey—so why not?  Wouldn't it be a stab at Inuyasha, to claim me?  Wouldn't you get revenge a second time?"  Kagome whispered icily, trying to struggle free, but all in vain.  She felt tears forming in her eyes, but she blinked them bitterly away. She almost wished he would take advantage of, so then she could actually hate him.

However, the truth was, she did not hate him at all.

She needed to despise him.  It would make this whole affair easier.

Grabbing her about the waist, startling himself, Sesshoumaru gazed hungrily down at her for a moment.  In that moment, he was able to truly see this girl for her beauty and her strength—a strength that he wished more people desired and possessed.  She did not fear him, and for this, he admitted bitterly, she deserved his respect.  Moreover, grudgingly, he would give it to her. Swinging her angrily over his shoulders, and stalking bitterly towards his fortress, he replied, "Naraku does not rule over me, Kagome-_sama._"

````````````````````````

Opening her eyes to the gray light of dawn, Kagome shifted her view and gazed at Sesshoumaru, the thought not yet registering in her mind.  Like the rain, it fell gently onto her.  It was not painful, just depressing, like the gray wetness of dawn.

She had failed.

Moving slightly, the rustle of fabric caused Sesshoumaru to open his closed eyes and stare at her, his expression deep and troubled.

"So," Kagome whispered quietly, suddenly very cold.

Sesshoumaru did not reply, but instead turned his attention to the door, which opened a few second later, revealing an aged woman, expect for the fact that a tale protruding from her kimono gave away her secret.

"Yorunonobu, Kagome-sama is now awake.  You may bring the broth as planned, and an extra blanket as well."  He instructed, eyeing her with a look of respect, although Kagome found it difficult to imagine Sesshoumaru respecting anyone.

"Yes, Sesshoumaru-sama," the being whispered softly as she exited the room and shut the shoji screens behind her.  Her shadow remained there for a moment longer, before shuffling quietly down the halls.

"You hire…youkai?"  Kagome whispered, wrapping her fingers around the edge of the heavy blanket.

"Yes, and hanyou as well."  Sesshoumaru muttered, though not ashamed, but brusque in his manner. 

"I…I didn't expect that…most disguise themselves so well…I  thought they were human," she admitted, flushing slightly, whether from her fever or ignorance.  She should had seen it sooner, but her mind had been far away.  The fact remained that Kagome could not escape from this mountain, and so her psyche must remain here, and be conscious for hidden opportunities.

"I am sure you didn't.  To my amazement, the youkai and hanyou that work here all wish to become human for some reason I cannot understand," His features formed an irritated and troubled expression that quickly passed as he noticed that she studied his face.

"I don't understand either.  Why would anyone wish to become human?"  Kagome whispered, her hands trembling to stop her from crying in front of the lord.

The gentle sound of the rain continued to hit against the gravel pathway outside, and although it was cool, it was not overly chilly as it has been hours before.  It was pleasant, comforting, and slowly the silence and the rhythm called Kagome's troubled heart.

Continuing the conversation, since Sesshoumaru seemed not to budge from his location, she ventured, "About last night…about today…" she paused, hesitating on the verge of the cliff, "Thank you."

"You know what you are saying, do you not? I stopped you from escaping.  You were not a mile away from the village Rin is staying.  Fifteen more minutes, and you would have been beyond my grasp.  You _would have _escaped."  Sesshoumaru lectured sternly, austere in every respect, obviously astounded by her gratitude.

Avoiding his question, Kagome demanded curiously, "Who is this Rin?  Your lover?"

Snorting in disdain, Sesshoumaru made an expression of reproach, and grumbled, "Nothing of the sort.  She is a young girl, a few years your junior, who I have taken in and allowed to live on the compounds."

"You took pity on her."  Kagome corrected mischievously, feeling her strength return, as did the sortie.

"Yes, I did.  Just as I take pity on you."  He replied angrily, glaring at Kagome in exasperation and displeasure.  He was expecting her to stay silent, considering her weakened condition.

_Yet, on the other hand, this is Kagome._

Settling back into their own thoughts, the silence continued.  It was agreeable, and for the first time since being whisked away to Sesshoumarus fortress,  Kagome felt…at ease around him, around the people who surrounded her.  Her attempt of escape had partially shifted her view of the world, but more importantly, her view of him.  Although Sesshoumaru had thwarted her plans, he had been a gentleman…something she had not expected.  Kagome had trained herself to expect the worst with every being—and now, for the first time in a long time, she had been sincerely surprised.

Glancing towards the door, it was opened by the same woman, Yorunobu, who had formerly opened entered some five minutes ago. In her arms, she carried a tray filled with a steaming leek broth and a teapot with two cups situated along side.  It was the subtle way of suggestion that Sesshoumaru might be staying longer than Kagome originally expected. 

"Here is the broth and tea as you commanded, Sesshoumaru-sama," she whispered gently, placing it before them and gently shuffling away.  Yorunobu paused, and turned to reply quickly, "Sashiage-san is bringing the blankets, Sesshoumaru-sama."

"Very good," the lord replied, nodding as he poured himself a cup of tea and brought it to his lips, "Has his cold retreated?"

"Ah, yes, Sesshoumaru-sama!"  Yorunobu flushed, smiling warmly, "The herbs you prescribed worked wonderfully."

"It was a mere hypothesis.  It was his resolve that deserves the praise."  He responded coolly, brushing aside the compliment as though it was an annoying fly.  "You may leave."

"Yes, Sesshoumaru-sama," Yorunobu responded, bowing deeply.

Turning to receive the cup that had been quietly offered to her by Sesshoumaru, she could not control the questions that flooded through her mind.

_Why do you have Rin?  How did she come to live here?_

_How did you learn botany?_

_Why are you so cruel and so kind at the same time?_

"I…" she began uncertainly.  Yet, she finally settled for, "The tea is good."

_I do not fear you, you know…_

Avoiding the comment, Sesshoumaru confided surprisingly, "I will be sending Rin away to Kyoto.  You will never meet her, you understand.  I do not want to be further tainted by the likes of man and war."  Placing his cup down, he picked up the lacquer bowl and handed it towards Kagome, "You are sick, incase you have not forgotten."

"You make it hard not to."

Taking the bowl, her eyes never leaving Sesshoumaru's face, she began, after sipping the pungent leek broth; "I believe that is a good idea. But, if you send her to Kyoto…she will always be surrounded by war.  You have other motives I am sure."

Smirking, Sesshoumaru noted how this girl could see even through his barriers, "Yes.  You have managed to see through the façade.  I will send her to Kyoto so she may learn the woman's art, and hopefully find happiness later on in life."

Smiling as she continued to sip the broth, "You mean, to allow her an opportunity to marry well.  You wish her to become a noble lady."

"Is that a crime?  Just because you are a jaded member of your class, Rin will be able to conform and allow her true personality to shine simultaneously."  His manner had become somewhat colder, like the breeze from the north.

"I have never met her, so I know nothing of her," Kagome admitted gently, "But…although I do not hold these beliefs, people of my class, and yours, do as well."

"And those beliefs would be?"

"No matter how much a noble may admire a peasant for their strength, their ability to cope; never will they want one to eat at their table.  It is two worlds we live in."

"That is a miscomprehensions brought on by this oppressive society.  The rule for you is that  'the nail that stands up gets hammered down'. I dare to surmise that you have already had that tragic fate." Sesshoumaru snarled angrily.

Gazing at him, strength glittering in her undaunted eyes, she whispered, "The moon in the water, broken and broken again, still is there…by—"

"Yes, Choshu, I am well aware of the great masters of haiku."  Sesshoumaru interrupted, impressed by the girls use of quotations.  Perhaps there was an application to those poems.

There would be no resolution to this argument, for Kagome drank her soup and sipped her tea in silence, and Sesshoumaru had not patience.  He was angry and damp; and much troubled his mind.  Now that this girl, Kagome, was to live here; life suddenly became a struggle—and he almost had to remind himself to hate her; for she was his brother's, and anything related to that bastard could he ever grow fond.

As he walked the halls, the haiku hung in the air about him…

_The moon in the water,_

_Broken and broken again, _

_Still is there…_

Another came to mind, and he mouthed the words to himself.  It was by another great master, Issa.

_Spring begins again;_

_Upon folly,_

_Folly returns_


	12. shifting wowards the attainable

An: Hey, everyone! ^_^  I finally got this chapter out! I don't know if it is one of my best, but the plot certainly moves along, and I suppose that is always a good thing. And guess who FINNALLY arrives? You will have to find out to read. Two of our favorite characters, both crazy and hated women! Could you guess? Aw, shucks, you will have to read.  I hope you guys enjoy it, and tell you friends! *flies away*

Read and review, onegai shimasu!

Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

Shifting Towards the Attainable

Sighing in frustration and annoyance, Lord Inuyasha huffed angrily through the room, his expression one of discontentment and agitation.  His movement reeked of a pent strength, his eyes darted about the room as though they desired to be far far away from the compounds he was situated in.

Casting a moody side-glance towards his baggage, waiting patiently in the corner, he exhaled a deep amount of breath and groaned.

He did not want to be here.

His thoughts drifted elsewhere, slowly traveling back in time to that point where he had met Naraku and learned of the tragic state of affairs with his wife and most hated brother.  Inuyasha, looking back on it now, was disgusted at his behavior.  Naraku had played him for the fool, had milked him so dry of all his emotions that now there was nothing left but a hallow parched sort of feeling that grew painfully acute at night. 

What had he wished to see, Inuyasha wondered as he continued to pace the room in frustration.  Moreover, how did he know that the device that Naraku seemed to treasure so tenderly was accurate in it is reading? Was it true that at this moment Kagome, his wife, was quietly sipping tea aside his brother that continued to cause him pain.  No doubt, Sesshoumaru would betray the young and innocent girl, just as he had betrayed himself to Inuyasha that summer so many years ago. 

Would he inflict upon Kagome the same vengeance he had sought for Kikyou?

It was this that turned his boiled blood icy cold.  

In truth, Inuyasha had not expected the physical and mental emotions that would plague him after he first witnessed the scene of his wife, Kagome, standing next to the foulest youkai to ever crawl the earth.  It astounded him, and baffled him at the same time, that this mere girl could arouse such a mysterious emotion in his being that nearly all other thoughts seemed to vanish.

Nearly.

This would only hasten his call to arms, and this would only cause more enjoyment and pleasure as Sesshoumaru finally fell by his sword.   How much he would treasure that day when Kagome would return to him, a dull piece of glass compared to his lost love, but nevertheless, his dull piece of glass.  And most enjoyably the blood of Sesshoumaru's dying figure would trickle down the mountainside into his lands…never to leave for as long as time.  Even in the afterlife, the youkai would be tortured by the truth that he had fallen to him, Inuyasha, his half brother, and a hanyou at that.

"Inuyasha-sama," a voice behind him greeted smoothly.

"Ah, Yusatsu-sama," Inuyasha fumbled, slightly off guard as he had been too deep in his thoughts to notice much else.

"I have come to wish you farewell."  The thin willowy man proclaimed, bowing low, a few wisps of silver colored hair escaping his ornate headdress.

"Thank you, Yusatsu-sama," he replied in turn.

"May the road back to your prefecture be filled with the delights of the season," the prophetic man hoped as he presented Inuyasha a wrapped bundle of some sort containing the customary gift. 

"Thank you Yusatsu-sama," Inuyasha repeated, extending his arms to receive the bundle.  Adding as an afterthought, "I deeply grateful for your alliance…it is one of my greatest."

Yusatsu said nothing, his dark mysterious eyes glancing up and down the figure of Inuyasha as though judging his character, as though seeing how much strength this hanyou possessed.

Bowing once again, extremely low this time, Inuyasha gave a farewell greeting and made his way towards the courtyard.

Standing amongst the waving pine trees that surrounded the mansion, Inuyasha thought absently of his journey.

Yusatsu had been the last lord that he was to visit.  Now, two paths slowly emerged before him out of the fog, each path entrancing in its own way. Yet, already Inuyasha had an inking of where his destiny was to lie.

Perhaps, Inuyasha thought idly as he watched the servants load his horse, Miroku had been correct in assuming that Naraku was dangerous.  Inuyasha was painfully aware of the powers that the being had—yet…Naraku seemed content to join along side him, a move that Inuyasha would have never expected.  If Miroku had known of these changed circumstances then certainly his consent could and would have been obtained. 

Waving a farewell to the remaining servants who had helped him in all ways possible during the last week, Inuyasha kicked the sides of the gray horse and sped off down the pathway towards the main thoroughfare.

The fact remained, Inuyasha told himself, that Naraku would allow him to quickly penetrate his brother's land, where, if all went according to plan, he could rescue Kagome from Sesshoumaru.

And more importantly, avenge Kikyou's death.

```````````````````````````````

"What do you mean…?" Sango questioned wearily as she eyed the stranger from across the open flame.  His face was hidden in the shadows of the blaze, flickering every few second, its appearance making false expressions.  At times, she felt his eyes upon her, yet when she looked up, they were not there…

"I mean that…this whole situation may be deeper than we all believed."  The man in turn replied, taking from out of the glow his gutted and browned fish.  Touching it, he let out a slight curse and Sango could not help but laugh, "Something right out of the fire is hot, you know."

"Well, yes, I suppose it is," the stranger grumbled playfully as he propped the stick with fish still attached against the moist log.

"Listen," Sango cut in suddenly, glaring intently at the stranger, "Who are you?  Why did you attack me?"

The man grimaced, as though the thought bought him either great pleasure or great pain.  Sango could not quite deceiver which emotion it consisted of.

"Would you wish the truth?"  The man whispered hoarsely, his figure bent over as he tossed another dry log into the fire.

"Is it so hard to give, the truth?"  Sango questioned sternly, deep eyes gazing at the mysterious stranger in a brutal way, allowing all her sorrow and strength to surround her in a sudden beautiful force field.  Never before had a man touched her in this way; minutes melted away, and she found that she was staring.  

"No, the truth is easy to say.  The reaction, well…" the man chuckled, touching his cool fish, and bringing it to his lips.

"My reaction will be stoic.  There are few things that frighten me, you must understand that."  Sango admitted, wrapping her arms about her exposed skin.

From far away within the dark depths of the forest an animal howled, and a bird called out for its mate.  Above, the moon passed over a wispy cloud making the world seem soft in all its edges. The figure before her turned gentle, no longer the worn man exhausted by his travels.  No longer the man who attacked her in the dark; no longer a potential enemy.  This man was just a man, a being, and one who sat hunched before her.

"My name is Miroku," the man began as he untied his hair and ran a hand through its strands.

Sango repeated the name softly, for it sounded strangely familiar in its uniqueness.

"I am an advisor and friend to your lord, which I presume is Inuyasha.  I do have my bearings, correct? This is the Shizuoka prefecture if I am not mistaken…" he mumbled absently to himself, a grin hinted on the edge of his open lips, revealing a handsome smile.

"Yes, this is the Shizuoka prefecture."  Was all Sango could find to answer.  What more was there to say?  This man, Miroku, was in charge of the conversation.

"I have come, though it seems too late, to find Kagome and return with her to Sapporo."  He paused and ate a piece of fish, "But so it would seem the journey took me longer than I expected, and it also seems that Kagome has disappeared."

"That is true."  Sango admitted, her form stiffening, her eyes misty in the firelight.

"My presumption is that it was Naraku who took her, not Sesshoumaru, although this area is easily accessible to any possible attacks or, as it would seem, kidnappings he has in mind."  Miroku admitted as he tied his hair in a tight ponytail.

His dark eyes for the first time since the conversation had begun, deigned to look upon Sango, as though noticing her curves and voluptuous body for the first time.

"And who might you be, who sits there looking so prettily at me?"  He quipped, finishing his fish, though his eyes remained active on the female figure presented before him.

"I-I am Sango," she managed to stutter terribly, thankful that it was somewhat dark and he could not see the flush slowly crawling across her face.  

"And how did you come about meeting my fair Kagome?"  Miroku questioned amusedly.

"I wrote her a letter, well…my late father did, and she arrived too late to help.  Instead she stayed and had plans to bring peace to the two nations—"

"Three nations."  Miroku corrected.

"Three?"

"Inuyasha is at was with Sesshoumaru, Sesshoumaru is at war with Inuyasha, yet because it seems so black and white as it does now, realize that Naraku, the lord who inflicted such pain upon you, will get his revenge.  At all costs. A massacre will begin on his command, a silent deadly massacre which the world will only hear about till after the death of countless victims."  Miroku whispered stealthily, his quiet eyes raging with an unseen yet heard storm.

"You believe that Naraku will try such a thing?"  Sango whispered quietly, a shiver rushing up her spine.

"Sango…you must understand…we are all fools on parade."

Gazing up at the cloud cover that covered the moon, Sango suddenly felt very alone.

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"How beautiful…" Naraku whispered quietly, his eyes flashing with gold and silver as he gazed down at one of his most precious of treasures.  What now lay before him would be the catalyst to change all the futures of those involved in his tragedy.  By this object, Inuyasha would ally himself with him, Naraku, to the death.  With this object, there would be no questioning in Inuyasha's heart—once Naraku obtained what he desired.  Until that time, he would relish watching Inuyasha stumble through a state of living hell.  He would slowly taste each flavor of Inuyasha's sorrow, of his hatred, of his blind anger  that would kill all those who became involved.

Sesshoumaru would die by Inuyasha's rage, Kagome by his side, Miroku…Sango…Rin…all would perish, and the world would forget them slowly, slowly.  For after all, no matter how much human damage was inflicted on it, the world would recover.  The earth was so much stronger than all: humans, youkai…even Naraku would only be a memory, his life fleeting…only a grain of sand amongst a beach.

Yet, perhaps by divine providence, or maybe something as foolish as luck, Naraku had been spared from a destiny similar to that all others lives.  Lightening had stuck his sandy grain, and now he returned a beautiful piece of glass…

Glancing to his right, where a haggard old woman sat patiently waiting; her large bulging eyes gazing down at the object.  A transparent watery eye turned in Naraku's direction; its expression a mixture between anger and admiration towards the lord.

"Why do you wish this done, Naraku?" the woman spat bitterly, her mouth opening to reveal a gaping hole.

"Why do you inquire?"  Naraku chuckled, noticing that the body of clay and mud had been created very life like. Noticing with great pleasure that the figure's breasts were large and expertly detailed, almost as much as the once beautiful face, he bent down and kissed them tenderly.  

"I inquire," the being hacked slightly, trying not to watch the spectacle in front of her, "Because if it had not been for you I would have completed this task for my own doing long ago."

Leaning over of the nude clay figure, he kissed her lips tenderly, and slowly continued the journey down the body until he arrived at an area that provided a gasp, even from the old and jaded witch.

Glancing up, his eyes glazed over, his dark hair tumbling over the deliciously naked form, he whispered, "Urasue, You must understand…if it hadn't been for me, much would have been accomplished in this world."

The old haggard woman, Urasue as they called her, gazed at him in a look of disgust, her jowls quivering, "This girl was mine.  I was the one who dug up her bones, who found the spell—it was me."

Chuckling, Naraku ran his hands along the molded female form, "Yes, yes, Urasue, that is all well and good…yet, there are those who are hunted and those who hunt.  I myself am the later…and you…well…I believe you know that you have already been caught."

Urase's expression darkened in disgust, "You…" she breathed in her foul breath. "You are…"

Continuing to fondle the clay statue, Naraku murmured dangerously, "Get on with it, Urasue, you try my patience.  Something I could not recommend."

The woman's watery eyes glazed over in anger and fear for the many lives that would soon be tormented by this man's actions.  His face turned to her now, his expression dangerous in its beauty.  His lips turned down in a frown, and he whispered, "Urasue…"

Coughing slightly, Urasue began the process that would bring this once dead person back to life.  The one person who was the key to the war, the person who could have so long ago put an end to it all.  Yet, now…now…there was no such hope….

"Yes, Naraku."  The withered and wrinkled form whispered quietly, her expression fuming.

"Wise decision."

His words whispered on the wing, telling the tarot cards of all to come…

``````````````````````````````````````

The flames leapt about the clay figure of the molded woman.  The smell of drying earth filled the air, whispering of the future.  The expression, if the figure had one, was that of deep sorrow…and yet it could not move.  Its bare shape lay quietly against the earth as the inferno danced sadistically about her.

"Is this all there is?"  Naraku quietly whispered to himself as he walked about the smoldering bonfire, the sparks jumping higher and higher into the afternoon sky.

"No," Urasue whispered quietly, sitting quietly on the ground, "We must wait until the flames die down and she is finished baking."

Intrigued by the demon witch, Naraku leaned against the tree and allowed himself to drown in the comforting flames.

"Do you have the souls ready?"  Urasue asked a few moments later.

"Yes…although a bit of Kagome's will be required, I presume?"  He quipped in turn, mocking her slightly.

"Don't be insolent, you power hungry youkai—"

"Thank you."

"Have you the incense ready as well?"  She continued irritably, grumbling at him in an elderly way.

"All that is required is the match."  Naraku smirked quietly to himself as he extended his hand, and almost instantly a surge of fire emitted forth in a small and forceful wave.  Chuckling to himself, he closed his eyes allowed his mind to filter, like the light between the leaves, to other far off and distant places.

"Very well…"

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Gently knocking against the mahogany paneling that bordered the shoji screens to Sesshoumaru's study, she opened the screen a quarter of an inch and peered intently into his room.  Gasping in surprise as she met Sesshoumaru's eyes, she stumbled back against the hall wall.

"Did I disturb you?" she tried to question gently, unsure of the youkai's mood today.

"Yes," the youkai began coldly.  Pausing, she heard him exhale a deep amount of breath, as though he was about to regret what came next.  When he spoke next, his words were carefully chosen, the tone unsure, "But this is not to say that the interruption comes as unwelcome."

Shaking her head, Kagome smiled against her will as she entered into Sesshoumaru's most private domain of the whole quarter.  Even as she entered, Kagome knew that to be permitted in this room was one of the greatest honors a human being could be expected to receive.  Only those who he truly trusted and respected would be allowed into such a personal space.

This room, Kagome knew, was the one unguarded door to the youkai's past and present.  All that was within the boxlike area was all he would offer, all he would present…and all she could expect.

"Hurry," Sesshoumaru snapped, as though finished with all such niceties, "You are letting in a draft."

Sliding the door quickly behind her, Kagome quickly seated herself a safe distance from Sesshoumaru and quietly gazed at him.  Even she herself had not known her purpose in entering into a domain such as this.  Why was she here, she quietly asked herself, as her blue eyes wandered about the room.

On one solid wall, was a great collection of beautifully bound books, drawers, slots filled with scrolls, and a few wall hangings on which a few poems were artfully written.

In the farthest corner, there was a particularly ancient looking wall scroll.  Reading it carefully, Kagome found herself recognizing the poet.

"Matsuo," she breathed, her lips forming a slight contented smile.  Reading the poem allowed in a hushed voice, she whispered, "New Year's Day: The desks and bits of paper, just as last year…"

Sesshoumaru glanced up from his desk, at first bewildered by her sudden outbreak of speech.  What had she been talking about? New Years Day?  Following her gaze, he realized that Kagome had been inspecting his room.  What did she think of it, he wondered to himself.  She had good taste to notice the best piece in the room, the original poem by the great master Matsuo.  Yet, he had not signed it, except for on the back of the scroll in his red stamp…so then, Sesshoumaru thought, this girl must have been familiar with his haiku.

"I," Sesshoumaru began, unaware that he was even speaking for a moment or two, "I used to have one by Shiki.  It went, 'Oppressive heat; My mind in a whirl, I listen to the peals of thunder.'"  Pausing, he glanced at Kagome for her approval.  She seemed interested, and so he continued, admitting coolly, "It is how I always imagine summer."

Kagome smiled at him, against her will.  This handsome face before her had killed so many.  He was a jaded man, seen many more years that she could ever expect.  This man had seen people covered in tears of blood, seen the deaths and births of countless friends and enemies, seen the cold winter and hot summer…

Yet, Kagome could not help thinking that there was something innocent about him.  As though something he was not aware of was missing.  Something that many others possessed and he believed had no use.

Kagome, thinking back to Inuyasha, realized that this trait was not inherited with the family.  It was unique in every way to Sesshoumaru.

Glancing up, she noticed that Sesshoumaru was staring at her in that intense way he had of looking at everything…as though there was something about her which he could not make out, something he could not understand, something that he wished to discover.

"I came in to say hello."  Kagome admitted, finding not much of anything to say, "I was sort of lonely."

Sesshoumaru, never blinking, replied curtly, "Do not speak to take up time.  Only speak when it is necessary."  Pausing, his eyes shifted slightly back to the old wall scroll.  His mouth moved, and he questioned almost hesitantly, "Why would you come to me, of all people, if you are lonely?  There is nothing I can do to heal or ease your loneliness.  You must learn that life is suffering."

Blinking in surprise, Kagome felt a flush of awkwardness return to her cheek.  Following his gaze to the scroll, Kagome replied in turn, perhaps a bit hotly, "Where did you get such an attitude?  Why must you constantly have such a pessimistic and nonchalant outlook?  Is there nothing in this world that matters to you?  Nothing that can touc you?"

Sesshoumaru's eyes burned with fury and slight humiliation.  A youkai could not care.  It was something that was not done.  How dare she even suggest that! As though caring was a good thing?  What did care and affection bring?  It brought death and sickness, remorse, struggle and deception.

"You know nothing of anything that matters.  There is only one thing I desire. Only one."  He snapped, his eyes glowing red in anger.  "And it is none of your concern.  Once this war is over you may return to your beloved, and both of us may be happy that we will never have to see one another again."

Blinking back tears of anger and frustration, Kagome yelled bitterly, "Why must you be this way?  Is being pleasant such a strain?  Is being capable of feelings so difficult? I would have thought you of all people would have the strength to over come populous opinions and—and continue with life!"

His fists clenched in rage, Sesshoumaru whispered dangerously, "You know nothing of me, my past, and what I desire, you presumptuous wench.  You, who have lived your life without seeing death and deceit, _you_ who hope for the best when at the first sign of opposition and frustration resort to dark and underhanded ways to complete your motives."  His form suddenly seemed to transform before of Kagome, the true grace and bloodthirsty power changing him into something she had only witnessed in her nightmares.

Yet, she could not succumb to the power he threw smugly in her direction.

The smell of incense began to cloud her scenes, the smell and smoke arriving out of nowhere, as though an invisible hand had lit the cones on the bookshelves.  Her mind glazed over such insignificant details.  What did she care of incense?  Slowly and quite unsteadily she rose, becoming increasingly light-headed with every passing moment.

Casting a dark look full of anger and regret she made her way towards the shoji screen.  Closing her eyes, she stumbled slightly towards the frame and clung onto it firmly. A cold sweat formed on her brow, and her breathing became shallow. Darkness began to possess her body and scratch un-mercilessly at her senses.  Her chest began to throb in a pain as though someone was yanking at her heart, trying to pull it free from her body. Glancing sadly at Sesshoumaru, she whispered, "It should not be this way.  We should not carry grudges of the past…"

Closing her eyes, she succumbed and embraced the darkness that possessed escape from the otherworldly pain.

````````````````````````````````````

Naraku, from within the dark recesses of his house, watched in amused silence as Sesshoumaru sprung up from his seated position, and in not even a second, rushed to the girls side.  It was beautiful; Naraku thought that their relationship was slowly beginning.  Yet, Naraku knew that this short-lived play would soon end.  

Already it was apparent that Sesshoumaru cared for the girl much deeper than it appeared on his mirror like surface.  His expressionless guise gave away all secrets to the longing of his heart.  His anger, frustration, and pity directed at the girl were such a transparent guise that it caused a rich laughter to fill the secluded room.  So quickly would Sesshoumaru come to the girl's side, as demonstrated in her fainting spell, that it would prove to be his downfall.

Quietly exiting his secluded chamber and erasing his precious pedestal filled with the all-seeing liquid, he made his way once again to the entranceway where the baked figure was beginning to cool.

Urasue sent a worried glance in his direction, and barked, "Did you light the soul stealing incense?  Has she gone unconscious?"

Naraku said nothing until he was close enough to her rancid frame, "Yes.  She proved no match for its powers.  When she awakes, what then?  Will she know that part of her soul has been, how should I say it, borrowed?"

Urasue thought for a moment, or at least that was what Naraku presumed she was doing.  Her wrinkles formed in an expression to give a generalization to thought, and her large beady eyes seemed to be concentrating on something else not in the present area.

"She will feel empty, as though something has been taken," Urasue admitted finally, "But the girl is not yet aware of her dormant powers lying within her.  She will not know that her soul has in fact been taken, partly at least, by another being.  And," she added subjectively, "Even if she has such an idea, there is no way she knows who or what is causing such actions on her."

Naraku laughed mightily, "I suppose ignorance is bliss in her condition.  We'll just let her have fun while she can, before reality attacks stealthily in the night."

Urasue, from the great depths of her coarsely woven garments, withdrew a lethal looking weapon and moved hastily towards the steaming ceramic figure.

Naraku watched in amazement as the old hag breathed a few words, causing a great white ball of mist to appear and settle near her free and outstretched hands.  Perhaps he had indeed underestimated the witch's powers after all.  If she could really pull this off…

He was unnerved slightly as the wrinkled form lifted a great scythe that had formerly been causally laying at her side, over her head in a great sweeping movement and brought it crashing down into the skull of the figure.  A great crack was heard.  For a moment, all was quiet except for the sound of the embers dying down from the old fire, as well as the sound of his quickened breathing.   Then, a series of small cracks began to form all over the body, a few at first, and then they began to spread with the intricacy of a spider's web.  Stepping forward, Naraku withdrew his breath quickly as he watched Urasue lean over the body and submerge the glowing ball of mist into its porous form.  

It moved.

Shocked by all amazement, his heart beating almost as quickly as it did during intercourse, Naraku found himself grinning madly.  Soon…

Urasue's form was now breathing heavily, a great sweat appearing on her prune-like brow. "Quick," she called hoarsely, "The spirits…!"

Almost immediately, the youkai arrived, their forms carrying a glowing ball of mist almost similar to the one that Urasue had formerly possessed.  The only difference was that Kagome's soul was brighter, and gold in color…

"Will this do?"  Naraku called, stepping forward, his eyes wide in amazement as the clay fell away revealing what used to be the hallow inside.  Instead, the pink flesh greeted his ravenous eyes.  His internal senses flared dangerously on the edge as the pieces continued to fall away and the former woman once again appeared in all her youth and beauty.  Everything about her seemed perfect.  Her long elegant neck, her beautiful shapely breasts just as Urasue has sculpted them, her long and luminous hair falling about her as though it was made to be some primitive cape.

Her small pink mouth quietly whispered a name, a name that Naraku knew too well.

"Inuyasha…"

Even in death, their love had survived.  Closing his eyes, Naraku scowled angrily and promised himself that in this lifetime only he would claim the love of Kikyou.  In her previous life, she had escaped his grasp.  Yet now….not so…not so…

Leaning over her reclined frame, Naraku touched her face gingerly, his expression almost sincere in appearance, "Why do you speak the name of your enemy?  In death does he haunt you still?"

The girls eyed opened slowly, the dilated pupils shifting to gaze confusedly at Naraku.  Whether or not it was the fact that she was now embraced in his arms, or the fact that the sun glinted down on her through the overhead trees, she whispered almost inaudibly, "Inuyasha…my enemy?"

"Can't you remember?  Remember when he killed you that terrible day?  His silver hair glinting in the light, his golden eyes glaring down at you….?"  He touched her face tenderly, running his hands against her parted lips.  "Don't you remember?"

"I…" she paused, her eyes clouded over in bewilderment.  Yes, it was true, she thought dimly, she remembered the golden eyes and silver hair…she remembered his voice there by her side in her last moments.  She remembered this man by her side…from somewhere…she remembered his voice, even if not his face…

Yet, Inuyasha…her enemy?  Could that be true?  Was it he who laughed without mercy as she fell to the ground, was it he who licked her blood off his claws?

"It is no other…" Naraku whispered into her ear, licking it slightly, "I have brought you back so you may avenge him…and once again, may we be together…"

Closing her eyes, the being found that a mysterious wetness formed at her eyes for reasons she could not comprehend.

The wind whispered through the surrounding trees, their green and new leaves suddenly dark in their appearance.  As though something mysterious hung in the trees; something sinister.  Opening her eyes once again, they turned hard in anger.  This hatred was directed at none other than her enemy; Inuyasha.

When she spoke the name again, it was full of anger, hatred and malice, "Inuyasha…I trusted you."

Speaking her name for the first time as he picked her bare body gently from the ground, Naraku began to whisper the plot that for months he had been carefully constructing under the cover of nightfall.  This plan to acquire this one treasure, to obtain his ultimate goal.  His apple of his eye.  Kikyou and her jewel.  Both glinted beautifully, for now they were nearly within his grasp. In the dawn of the morning, his plans  would dissipate, only to form once again at dusk…

"Kikyou…"

````````````````````````````````````````

Opening her eyes, Kagome blinked at the unexpected light that surrounded her from what seemed days of darkness.  She was cold and clammy; yet surrounding her was a great and protective warmth.  She could not discern what or where the heat radiated from…yet was evident all the same.  It was perhaps her only comfort…this warmth…

Groaning slight, she shifted her body, and found her muscles sore, as though she had been strenuous in some activity.  She felt tired at the same time as well, yet strangely hollow and empty.  

Closing her eyes tightly, she tried to remember as far back as was achievable.  There was only the argument with Sesshoumaru, his cold and angry eyes glaring at her from across the room.  It seemed that the moments in which Sesshoumaru looked at her took up most of the time, and for a few moments she found it hard to remember what else had taken place.  All she could remember was his face, evident throughout the fog.  Yet then, slowly, like a distant memory, new layers revealed themselves to her…There was the sudden smell of incense that washed over her.  There was her strain to walk, however unsteadily, across the room—and then…her falling into a luscious warmth and darkness.

What could it have been…?

Fluttering her eyes once again, she found herself gazing into the worried face of Sesshoumaru.  Their eyes met, and his face turned emotionless so swiftly that Kagome had assumed his expression had been a trick of the light. 

"Sesshoumaru…" she whispered.  There were so many things she wanted to ask; so many words of comfort she wished to hear.  Yet, Kagome knew that no such sympathy would arise from the man who now cradled her in his arms. 

Gazing down at the flushed girl, Sesshoumaru's heart grew quieter.  For the past five minutes, this girl had been in his arms, not moving, hardly breathing.  For a moment, she had shaken slightly and perhaps there was a mistake of the light, yet he could have sworn that a golden wisp of smoke departed from her body.

Sesshoumaru, for that period of five minutes, had been in a confused hell.  For the first time in many years, he was unsure of his actions, unsure of what should be done.  Should he have left her, and called for help?  Stay by her side…?  Yet, the thoughts continued… what if she died?  What if she became possessed by a demon?  Questions flooded through his mind, unfiltered in their content, and a deep drowning sensation possessed his body.  As though icy hands were pulling him through a black abyss…

And then, suddenly, the hell dissipated, and he found that the girl in his arms stirred and slowly moved her lips, her first words whispering his name.

"Kagome," he began, helping her to sit upright, "What happened?"

She seemed as clueless as he did in the whole matter.  As disappointing as it all was, Sesshoumaru could not help but feel relived.  It was better, the less information she knew about this dark story happening from behind the curtains…

``````````````````````````````````````

The fire had turned to glowing coals as night approached.  The servants crowded about the embers, baking potatoes and anything else they could get their hands on.  Their faces lit with an unearthly and almost eerie glow, moved not.  All was quiet, no songs, and no words—nothing.  Something whispered on the wing, and all knew.  Even before he was not a mile away, they knew that he, the man their master had been waiting for, approached to fling himself into Naraku's outstretched arms, waiting and ready for attack. 

Their eyes, alit with the withering flames, gazed towards the entrance of the compound, as the sound of hoofs beating against the hard ground grew louder.  Almost as though they though they would never stop, the air lingered with the memory of the sound.

Then, bursting into view, the trees falling back behind him, Inuyasha, the lord of the eastern lands arrived.  His eyes sparked and glowed as much as the dying coals where earlier in the day, a great bonfire had once bloomed.  His silver hair, nearly the color the light the moon gave off, glinted like reflections against a lake, an angry and tumultuous lake.  Everything about the man reeked of anger, frustration, and lack of hope.  His form was bent, due to hours on his worn out steed, his eyes, although a lit, were now glowing, soon to burn out.  

The horse was pulled to a stop outside the main entry to the building.  A block of light appeared in the compound, a large square, almost cut and pasted into its odd place.  A bent figure of an old lady appeared, bowing low.

The onlookers could not hear the intercourse, but then, they all knew the outcome.  Their eyes sad, they watched as Inuyasha, the once pure and noble ruler of the eastern lands, stepped into the house of discrepancy, the house that would bind him un-mercilessly until he fell over, strangled to death by his own means.  Sesshoumaru, the onlookers and servants knew, was jaded and experienced in the world.  Even if all collapsed around the elder brother, everyone knew that the youkai could pull himself out of the rubble and begin again.  Inuyasha would die beneath the rocks, suffocated and blind even to the very last moment….

Stumbling through the endless halls, surrounded by shoji screens everywhere he looked, half drugged by his own despair and exhaustion, Inuyasha whispered Naraku's name like a chant.  Suddenly, there was nothing more beautiful and appealing that all this man had to offer him.  Memories of his past, and the reality of his present, had arisen once more on the long journey to Naraku's mountaintop abode.  The sorrow had overwhelmed him, and for a period of two hours, his horse led him blinding along. Then, as the sun grew lower on the horizon the first perception of a glimmer of hope shown through the clouds of his own creation.  His happiness was still attainable; still could be grasped; he could rewrite his future with Kagome. Only with her, only with the still untouched and fragile innocent bloom, could he once again experience such an emotion.

Then, his appearance darkened even more so.  Once again, his brother had taken what was most dear from him, intent on destroying his life for the idiosyncrasies of his fathers will.  In truth, it was his fathers' determination that had created his past and was still shaping his future.  The sword he had inherited, the sword he would one-day use against his brother, was the cause of all the struggles and strife.

"Naraku…" he heard himself murmuring, almost unconsciously.

His ears pricked in sensitivity, and he looked up to find Naraku, standing at the end of the hall, his form filled with such beauty and grace, almost of a female.  And yet, this was Naraku; and his beauty was brought on by Inuyasha's longing to defeat the common obstacle.  Naraku's dark eyes glowed quietly, as though fireflies swam within their depths.  His cloak of eggplant colored fabric mingled with a dark green, silver and black about him.  Then…his hands reached out, and half mad, Inuyasha stumbled and fell gratefully into the only person he could trust, the only person who truly cared for his well being.

Gripping the frame of his body, he spoke not, his eyes unseeing of his reality.  A dry sob came to his lips. 

Gazing down at his unpolished gem, Naraku whispered tenderly, "Do not worry, Inuyasha, for tonight you shall find your happiness."

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AN: sorry for the long delay of this chapter. I actually had it written and thought I had updated it, but then I realized *dOh* I did no such thing! So, once again, sorry for the lateness, but I knew you guys would all understand.  


	13. child's toy

AN: In my opinion, I got this chapter out quick, after a person's comments make since. To paraphrase, she said, "Don't take too long on the chapters because people forget what happens."  Well, I am somewhat following her advice and taking advantage of NOT having writers block! Anyways, I apologize for any spelling or grammar mistakes, seeing as how this chapter has not been beta-read. I didn't have the patience to wait for them, so I decided to just update! Yatta! Anyways, this chapter only has three scenes and comparatively it is pretty short. But, oh well.  This story (Shadows Against the Shoji Screen) is going to be composed of three parts.  The Beginning or titled "Life" the Middle, titled "Love" and the end, titled "War".  Now, currently, we are in part two of the story that deals with more with romance and human relations.  This web will play through to part III when the end comes and we see who ends up with who.  So, you S/K and IY/K fans just stay tune, and jump to NO presumptions! (Oh, did I mention that I am planning on writing an afterward and a sequel to this story?)

Anyways, also, hopefully my Japanese dictionary gave me the correct word for "life" because I let Inuyasha speak a bit of Japanese! Woo hoo! (I give the translation at the end.)

Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

Chapter 13: A child's Toy

The calm and serene face moved and contorted ever so slightly as Inuyasha awoke from his deep slumber.  His eyes remained golden for the first second, but then the pupils' dilated so as to absorb the weak light.  Yet, there was confusion in his golden orbs.  His slightly parted lips twitched, and a groan escaped from his throat.

Gasping in alertness and concentration, Inuyasha bolted from under the purple blanket and studied the room.  All was quiet and undisturbed.  The candle flicked in the corner, highlighting strange shadows on the walls and sparse furniture.

His clawed hands reached attentively for his head, and shivering, he ran his fingers through his damp hair.

It took him a full minute to recall all that had happened—where he was, why he was here.  His memories, like the sun behind the leaves of a tree, glinted down at him, never truly revealing the full picture.  Just glimpses. 

"I…" he chocked to himself, testing to see if his voice still worked. "I…where…what…"

But the lord of the eastern lands did not finish the sentence.

His shoulders slumped and he gripped the edges of the blanket while he gazed dimly about the room, letting the memories wash over his eyes like water.

The ride along the road had become wet with the seasonal rains washing over the land near Sapporo.  A few times, Inuyasha had been forced to stop and wait for the downpour to pass.  In those scattered moments his mind had wandered and formed intricate webs in which he unconsciously trapped himself.  In those memories of yesterday, his past had risen to the surface only to collide painfully with the future.

He had realized, as the rain poured down overhead, that his life was like a top.  Like a child's game, like a child's toy, he just went round and round—never making much progress.

_omae no jumyo wa kodomo no omocha…_

Hadn't he paid for his sins?  Hadn't these sixteen years of defeat and hell given him retribution?

Obviously not…

His brother was content to spin his life, like a top, the colors blurring together as one.  His brother was content and amused to watch him spin hopeless circles around a goal that he could never achieve.  Was happiness, Inuyasha screamed, so unattainable? Why, when bliss was nearly within his grasp, must it be bitterly grabbed away from him.  What had he done, he rose angrily, to deserve such a fate? 

Early in his life had he caused anger to the gods?  Had he struck his mother?  Why was his life in such a condition?

And now, Inuyasha knew, there was no other path.  He had to begin his lifespan again; spinning, reaching out for the goal.  Happiness.

The rain had cleared periodically, and the blue sky beyond glinted down at him, smiling. In the fields and meadows, the villagers were gathering taro roots and lotus bulbs.  The spring equinox would soon be upon the countryside.

Kagome, for those few months, had been his.  In addition, strangely, looking back on the experience, he found that being with her was not so terrible as it had seemed.  Yes, she had been different, inexperienced…but, for the first time, a woman had belonged to him. Legally, at least.  And what had he done?  Tossed her aside, content with memories of the past.  The love of a dead woman still controlled his hours—and his actions reflected the emotions he still held for her.

And yet…

During the months away, he found a burden slowly growing on his heart.  The fact that Kagome was miles away, separated from his side both physically and mentally—it was discouraging.  It caused emotions to arise within him; emotions he had thought long gone. Of course, Inuyasha knew, he could never reveal the presence of his emotions to Miroku and probably never even to Kagome.  His anger and arrogance had dug his grave, and there was nothing left to do but slowly crawl out.  But, such a thing would take years.  More than likely; a lifetime. 

And as he rode along on his dapple-gray horse, his heart tightened in anger and jealousy and spite—for once again he had lost something. It had been so close, hadn't it?  Hadn't he nearly attained the goal?  Then, so precise had been his brother's timing, that all had been lost.

Looking at the present state of affairs, Inuyasha was aware that his choices were not wise.  Yet what could be done?  Sesshoumaru had yet to feel his wrath and revenge from those sixteen years ago.  And now, with Naraku at his side, Inuyasha knew that he would take great pleasure in watching his half-brother suffer.  His brother had killed his one great love, stolen his wife, attacked his territory—but one thought brought Inuyasha consolation; Sesshoumaru had yet to get what this goddamned war was about.  He had yet to get the sword….

But this was not enough.  Not enough to sustain him, not enough to keep him level, not enough to hold his rage and anger down.  It was not enough. Nothing was ever enough…

And….as he had ridden the path to Naraku's fortress, Inuyasha had plunged into a darkness of his own imagination and subconscious.  His emotions took over and he trembled as scenes of yesterday played across his face—they taunted them, and only dragged him deeper…

Doubling up, Inuyasha choked back a sob and angrily combed his clawed fingers through his hair.  What had yesterday been to him?  A blur of sorrow and remorse.  And this evening, what was it to become?  More laments?  Inuyasha knew already that he had regretted ever coming to seek Naraku for an ally, and even if he wished Naraku to go into battle with him, never—never would Inuyasha have imagined his actions being so rash and brazen.

Moving ever so slightly, Inuyasha shifted his gaze from the closed panels of shoji screens to the open porch now alit with the waxing moons glow.  As though a brush filled with silver ink had traced every form, the garden appeared to sparkle like a gem.

Fingering the light and airy yukata some servant must have dressed him in, he slowly crawled across the tatami-covered floor and over to the wide open planks of the outdoor patio.  Blinking at the brightness of the moon, Inuyasha settled himself against a pillar and closed his eyes.  The night was quiet and still.  It was a comfortable temperature, hinting the warmer nights of summer soon to come. Allowing his muscles to relax, Inuyasha tried to distance himself from his past, his present, his reality and his subconscious.  All that remained was the sound of his breathing….

And evidently the footsteps on the garden pathway.

His golden eyes immediately snapped open, yet not moving a limb, he remained motionless like the statue of Kannon. 

"Who's there?"

There was no answer. Yet again, did Inuyasha actually expect one?  The footsteps against the stone pathway continued, as if some perverse chord played on the koto.

"Who the hell is it?"

The sound grew closer, not five feet away.  Spinning around towards the direction, Inuyasha glared icily at the person who was now withdrawing herself from the cloak of shadows.  Moonlight etched her perfect face, glowing like that of the moon over head.   In taking a breath of air quickly, Inuyasha whispered scarcely above a whisper…

"Kikyou…?"

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Sesshoumaru, the lord of the western lands, quietly lit the oil lamp in his study and sank down to his desk.  What met his eyes was a pile of letters, some requesting, some informing; none interesting or worth his time to say the least.  Idly fingering his amethyst paperweight in his hands, Sesshoumaru studied his private domain thoughtfully.  Five days ago, Kagome had walked inaudibly into his room, wanting nothing more than company and a quiet conversation.  And although Sesshoumaru would not deny that often he had longed for the same thing, he was aware that the afternoon had been an eventful occurrence.

Kagome, a girl, a human girl, who had not resided at his house for more than two months, had been allowed to enter his one sanctuary from humanity.  The one place that he could hide from his past, from the bitter and anxious world—she had been, that innocent day, unbeknownst to even himself, admitted into his soul.  Whether or not this was favorable or inauspicious, Sesshoumaru was still pondering.

Yet, as the days went by, he often found himself actually enjoying life again.  He found himself looking forward to the quiet meals they shared—he found life had begun again, and every day brought something new to his table.

In other words, he was getting soft.

Sesshoumaru knew that his girl would eventually leave and return either to her homeland or to Inuyasha, depending on the outcome of this final battle.

Why final, Sesshoumaru pondered to himself as he dug his claw into the chunk of amethyst and broke off a large piece.  Why final…?

Because, Sesshoumaru replied, you are tired of this, are you not?  For the past sixteen years, your life has been going nowhere. Like a child's toy, you pass from one hand to the other, but essentially—nothing happens.  Such has been your life these past years, and admit it, Sesshoumaru; you grow tired of the sport.  

Yet how could that be? How could it be that he, the greatest living youkai ever, grow tired of the hunt? The sport? The way of life?

Because now, Sesshoumaru, you long for something else.  Your emotions have been eclipsed by an unknown force.

What?

No, Sesshoumaru, the answer is not 'what'.  The answer is who…

Who indeed.  There was no such person, no such youkai, and no such hanyou.  Long ago he had sworn off to ever feel emotion, to ever allow an underside to be developed.  To care, to love, to admire, to have fondness—all such things only led to a person's downfall.  Hadn't this been proven with countless examples before him? Rin? His father? Inuyasha's mother? Inuyasha?  Was not it just an endless cycle—and there was only one cure, only one path to take so as not to be carelessly tossed to the side.  One had to not allow themselves concern, one had to not give a damn who had just been killed, one had to be stoic and suffer silently.

Giving the amethyst paper weight a careless toss he shuffled through the letters on his desk and fought back a sigh.  Sometimes, without company, his life turned so monotonous—everyday the sun would rise, and everyday he would sit down at his desk…and if he grew bored of letters and planning battle tactics, he could practice swordsmanship, or go on a walk to survey his land.  Sesshoumaru knew he had many choices—yet all had become so tired….

As his life had become…

It was deep night now, and his demon ears pricked in sensitivity sensing the sound waves echo through the courtyard.  It was the sound of the shakuhachi—the bamboo flute.  At first, Sesshoumaru presumed, that it was one of the servants sitting out on the porch playing a few tunes to amuse himself.  But as he idly listened, shuffling through his papers, the lamplight flickering on the wall, Sesshoumaru began to notice a difference in the quality of the tone.  It was deeper, more mournful, sad, and most importantly; expertly played.

Yet, the shakuhachi was an instrument of men (mostly, or so he presumed) so who could have been so skilled and he not even realize it?

The playing continued, and after ten minutes of idly shifting through unread or unopened letters, Sesshoumaru quietly exited his room and set off in search of the mysterious musician.

When he arrived, he paused at the porch, and watched her bathed in moonlight.  This girl was one of mysteries indeed….

"The shakuhachi is a man's instrument, you realize."  Sesshoumaru began, stepping quietly into the glowing moonlight.

Kagome, unaffected by his entrance, looked up and replied calmly, "Good evening."

Saying nothing, his glare turned icy.  What had caused the alteration of her countenance?  Usually she was full of pertinent remarks and always ready to spring into some new battle.  But not tonight….tonight there was something blatantly softer about her as a whole.  She was more feminine; gentler, polite…and truth be told, it both bored and excited him in a strange way.  Having been brought up in court, he was used to such niceties, the proper way to behave, the proper way to live, pour tea, sit—and Kagome was illustrating such behavior at this moment.  Yet, what intrigued him was that she should exhibit such behavior tonight.  Why, he wondered.  Why was she acting so differently?  Had something changed?  And, if so, what?

"Yes, I know."  She added after a moment, obviously noticing that he was perplexed by her answer.

"Then why do you play?  Why not the koto?  Why not sing?  I'm sure that your education, as you put it, has brought you up in such niceties."  Sesshoumaru sneered, trying his best to unruffled her smooth feathers, trying to get a reaction that he had strangely grown so accustomed to.

"I choose not to do either because…" she paused, her blue eyes downcast, "I choose not to do either because they are not my forte.  Why would I flaunt my weaknesses for the world to see?  Why would I lower your opinion of me?""

"You have done such things before."  Sesshoumaru replied, grinning slightly, waiting…waiting like a tiger in the grass.

"I have, that's true…but…being one of the few females who plays the flute well I think makes me different.  In this day and age, it is hard to be a noble woman who stands out, who does not blend in.  The shakuhachi makes me more unique in some respects."  Kagome replied, the flute now in her lap, her posture more relaxed.  Lifting her hands, she motioned him to take a seat on the porch.

Hesitating, Sesshoumaru whispered harshly, "I would have thought that being married to my half brother would have caused you much fame."

Kagome grinned and a laugh escaped her throat. His face impassive, Sesshoumaru sat down and stared at the garden, illuminated by the moonlight.

"I will admit that marrying Inuyasha has made me more known of…" Kagome shrugged.  Lifting the flute to her lips, she began a slow and haunting tune.  At first, it was deathly silent, like snow falling on the dogwood trees.  But then slowly, ever slowly, it gained volume and the notes tinkled merrily up and down the scale like water.  But then, the stream reached the lake, and the tune become softer, full of rhythm and interest.

It ended all too soon for Sesshoumaru, and turning his face to look at her, she found her blue eyes staring transfixed at his face.

"I," she began ever hesitantly, a bit of color coming to her lips.  "I…" she began hesitantly again, clutching the bamboo flute in her grasp, "As a child I was to learn this.  The flute. When I was born and for nearly five years after, until my brother was conceived, I was forced to act as though I was a boy.  I was taught archery, martial arts, horse back riding, Go, strategizing, reading, writing, calligraphy—all that a boy is to learn.  And then when Souta was born the tradition of my tom boyishness continued.  Yet my mother insisted I learn all the arts of a woman so that I may make a good marriage.  And now, see what I have become?  An unloved wife with no use for any such skills."  She paused, and glanced down at her lap, her hair falling over her face and over the silk of her light yellow dressing kimono, "It would have been better…" she breathed heavily, "If I had been uneducated and a fool—so then I may not have known I was oppressed…so that I would have not known what else lay behind the walls. So I may have been content."

Her head hung low and made no effort to raise itself.  Her pale skinned glowed like the reflection of water against a whitewashed wall, contrasting perfectly with her dark raven colored hair that fell over her shoulders.  Kagome was two different people, Sesshoumaru thought absently, studying her for a moment.  During the day she was strong and tough as leather—with her hair up, she could rise to any challenge, any snide remark, any attack.  Yet at night she turned soft and pliable like silk, her fears and anxieties over took her overly burdened soul and she drowned in her untied hair.

For some time, the night was filled with the sound of crickets of the surrounding countryside, the sound of rushing water, the whisper of the wind through the trees.  But then, the silence was broken quite sharply and unexpected by a whisper from the dark.

"It is true that a woman's life is never good.  It is true that society had not been kind and taken advantage of your sex.  Don't cry to hard, for you are neither the first nor the last to feel such an emotion." The speaker paused, and gingerly reached and gently picked up the bamboo flute from her grasp and brought it to his partially opened lips, "But never have I heard such a beautiful song…and never will you fall to the slings and arrows to those who try to bring you down."

Exhaling, Sesshoumaru played a low quiet tune on the flute, his golden eyes wandering upward to the star studded sky, a slight glow surrounding his emotionless face.  Perhaps it was just the moonlight….

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Inuyasha, digging his pointed claws into the soft wood of the porch, gasped and repeated the name over.

"Kikyou?  Is that you?"

The form moved nearer and blindly Inuyasha felt that emotion from so long ago rise again to his throat, to his body and course wildly throughout it.  It was Kikyou, in the flesh, alive and beautiful as she once had been. Nothing had changed, her eyes still held that mournful and attractive look as they had once carried, her body still slim and willowy, her hair still as fine as ever.  No, Inuyasha told himself, this time it was not a figment of his imagination.  This time it was not his desires rising to the surface creating an allusion. This time…! This time it was her! It had to be, for he could not imagine living through another hell without her….

Her silk blue kimono was partially undone, revealing her collarbone and a bit of cleavage.  Inuyasha's golden eyes hungrily licked over the bare skin, a fire ignited in him once again.  But he had to be sure…that this apparition was her, that she was here, once again ready to fall into his arms.

"Kikyou…say something," he gasped, crawling forward, his eyes transfixed onto her quiet face, "Anything…"

Her plump red lips moved and uttered quietly, "Yes, it is I. Kikyou….I have returned to you…"

"But, but, but how can this be?"  Inuyasha gasped terribly, cradling his head and shaking it violently.  "You died!  I am married!  How the fucking hell can this be?"

Her cool hands cupped his hot and angry face, and Kikyou, leaning closer, blew a cool breath onto his brow and smiled softly.  Their foreheads touching, she whispered, "I am here, Inuyasha.  I have returned. Isn't that all that matters?"

The silk of her blue kimono rustled as she sat quietly down onto Inuyasha's lap.  "I have been reborn for you.  Our love was something that could transcend time…and even death."

A cold, chill sweat through his spine, and shuddering, Inuyasha whispered hoarsely, his eyes wet with tears, "Transcend time?"

Wrapping her arms slowly around him, like a spider with their prey, she continued, "I have been reborn Inuyasha.  For you, and you only."  She paused, her dark eyes flashing in the light above.  A worried and troubled expression surfaced on her features, and she cried desperately, "Then, Inuyasha, you love you wife?  You no longer carry emotions for me?"

Inuyasha, dumbfounded, instinctively wrapped his arms about her waist and rested his head on her shoulders, "Kikyou, I've missed you so much."

"Missed," she began coldly, her form stiff, "But not loved."

"No," Inuyasha whispered softly, "I loved you, I still love you, I will always love you."

Then why, Inuyasha, do you feel as if someone has torn your heart out? 

Isn't Kikyou what you pined for all these years? 

Now, are you suddenly unsatisfied?  

What could be the cause?

Or who…?

Kagome.

No. Not Kagome. You're wrong.  She was your dull piece of glass, correct?

I…

You have her now Inuyasha! Now, you're going to destroy this potential happiness for another girl you hardly know, respect, or trust?  
  


No.  Kikyou is mine.  What was I thinking?

She will always be yours.

Inuyasha closed his eyes and slowly fell into the folds of the loose kimono soon being removed by Kikyou.  He fell into her eyes and her heart once again, as he had done so many years ago.  Pressing her hard against the tatami he kissed her hard, his tongue exploring every crevice to her mouth, every flavor to her body, every ridge, every mound, every depression.  For the second time in his life, Kikyou became his…

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_omae no jumyo wa kodomo no omocha…_

if created properly, should mean "My life is a child's toy."

So, please read and review onegai shimasuuuu! 

Sincerely

cappie


	14. interlude from the rain

AN: As far as this chapter goes, it will be different from my others in that it does not center around the main characters of the story (ie: Sesshoumaru, Inuyasha, Kagome, Naraku, Kikyou). Instead, it deals with the minors (currently, Sango, Miroku and Rin)—but more as you see will be added soon.

Chapter 14

The steaming bowl of chicken ramen was placed in front of the girl.  A bit of the salty broth fell onto the worn table, and the waitress brought out a cloth from within an apron pocket, replied, "Thank you for waiting."

The girl gazed down at the steaming bowl of Chinese noodles and smiled happily, and absently mumbling, "It looks delicious."

The middle-aged woman who sat across the secluded table cleared her throat and eyed the young girl in an exasperated glare.  The girl, glancing up, flushed slightly and gazed at her with large and questioning eyes.

The woman, her hair smooth and untouched by the day, raised her eyebrows and urged, "And…?"

Gazing up at the waitress, turning her back to leave, the girl called desperately, "Thank you!"

Once the waitress had bowed humbly and scuttled away the woman, delicately mixing in a bit of wasabi into her soy sauce, commented, "Rin, really. Have not we drilled the proper restaurant etiquette enough?"

Rin bit her lip in shame and quietly nodded, "Yes…we have Yorozu-sensei."

The woman, withdrawing a pair of chopsticks from the container replied briskly, "Well then, why had I to remind you?"

"But-but the ramen looked so good, and—and—," she paused, realizing she had been defeated.  Quietly, she bowed her head and apologized, "Forgive me, Yorozu-sensei."

The teacher, Yorozu, replied after a she had taken the time to eat a gyoza, "Rin, I am your paid instructor. Do you wish for all of Sesshoumaru-sama's money to go to misuse? Don't you believe this is rather selfish of you?"

Rin, reddening slightly as she tried to eat her ramen quietly and in proper etiquette while at the same time respecting the "the more noise you make the better it is" rule, whispered, "Yes, it is rude of me."

The teacher was pretty although she had over plucked her eyebrows, questioned wryly, "Do you say this because you know that is what I wish to hear? Or do you say it in earnest?"

Rin, placing down her chopsticks insisted, "No, Yorozu-sensei. I truly mean it. Sesshoumaru-sama has spent so much money on me and always protected me. This is the one thing that he has wished me to do and I don't want to let him down."

The teacher chewed on another gyoza, watching Rin's rosy face, as though something was troubling her.

Rin avoided her glance and inaudibly ate her noodles, her eyes tracing the grains in the woodwork.  

Outside the rain steadily fell from the sky and she could hear the sounds of footsteps and the trotting of horses.  Occasionally a vendor and his cart with squeaky wheels passed by.  The sound of rain on the rooftop grew louder as a large absorbent cloud must have been passing over head.  The two ate in silence, Yorozu-sensei watching the other patrons of the restaurant.  Yorozu-sensei, her eyes darting like the movement of a sparrow, knew that Rin was a wild soul.  She was one of the few wild flowers that had been lucky enough to been brought Kyoto, the heart of Japan, to learn the ways of the court.  Yorozu-sensei, with her fifteen years experience, knew that if she pressed too hard that Rin would wilt and die, like a flower under too much sun.  If she nurtured and pruned her wild edges, then truly, she would flourish.  

It was for this reason that she permitted the two of them to dine at one of the more shady parts of the city.  The parts of the city where the middle class lived; where the traveling monks and mercenaries came to get a good cheap meal, the part of town where strange and mysterious creatures came for comforts.

Perhaps, Yorozu thought dryly, it reminded Rin of her roots. It reminded Rin that there was a world outside of the court walls.  There was a world where not everything was sculpted and shaped to perfection.

Rin, glancing up at the window sighed slightly and leaned against the table causing an annoyed sigh from Yorozu-sensei that she pretended not to hear.

Whispering quietly to no one in particular, she said, "I wonder what is going on at the fortress."

Yorozu, sipping daintily from the earthy cup of green tea, suddenly remembered that the post had come today.  And with the onslaught of letters pleading for her help and fine skills, there had been one addressed to Rin.  By the great beauty of the script, and the naturally woven feel to the envelope, it was obvious that it was from Rin's caretaker; Sesshoumaru.

"Now that you mention it," she began archly, "I did receive a letter from him today…"

Rin, sitting alertly now, blinked and questioned, "Do you have it? Do you have the letter on you?"

Yorozu, thinking about it for a second, reached into the deep sleeve of her kimono and withdrew the short stack of letters that she had picked up before the two of them had left for the restaurant. Untying the bow of course string, she mumbled idly, "I do believe I have Sesshoumaru-sama's letter in here…"

Rin, tapping her fingers in anticipation, moved impatiently as Yorozu painstakingly read each name off each letter.  Finally, at the bottom of the stack, lay Sesshoumaru's letter. Yorozu, wondering if she should keep the letter and bribe Rin with it, decided that it would be to cruel to withhold such information from one she loved so dearly.

"Yes, here you are." And smiling, she slid it across the table.

Snatching up the piece of paper, Rin hurriedly tore at the seal and unfolded the pieces of paper from within.  Reading with an insatiable appetite, she successfully ignored Yorozu and her rapidly cooling ramen.

Three or so minutes later, Rin looked up, content, and folded the papers once again into the worn envelope, and placed it carefully into the sleeve of her own light green kimono.

"Well?"  Yorozu asked, slightly interested in the news from the warring states, "Is there anything that you can share, or at least, wish to tell me?"

Rin, back to slurping her noodles, thought for a moment and answered, "Well, he tries not to talk to me about what is going on with his brother and the war. He says he wishes for me not to get involved—"

"Which, if I may interrupt, is a wise thing to decide. You are a young defenseless girl, and the warring prefectures are no place for you."  Yorozu cut in, a look of concern surfacing across her pretty face.

"But, I grew up in the country. I know the ways of the people.  Just because he wishes for me to be trained in the court does not mean I can forget my homeland."  Rin replied primly, adding a bit of soy sauce to the ramen.  Shrugging, and adjusting her kimono ever so slightly, she continued, "He tells me of the changes of the seasons and the restoration of one of the wings of the house.  But, what takes of most of the letter, is that another person has come to stay with him."

"A visiting nobility? Warlord?"  Yorozu questioned curiously, suddenly enthralled by the workings of this small and strange family.  It was rather touching that Sesshoumaru, a feared youkai lord, had taken such a young girl under his wing and brought her up.  In addition, what was even more curious about the situation was that he was not romantically involved in the girl; the two were companions, but never, or so it would seem, lovers.

"No…" Rin admitted, hesitating ever so slightly, her eyes averted, "Naraku brought his half brothers wife to live with him."

"Oh?"  Yorozu inquired, and continuing, she hesitated slightly, "How terrible, I have forgotten all about that family.  The Higurashi's, am I correct?  I send them new years card's ever year."

Rin, suddenly interested in her slightly rambling teacher, asked curiously, "Oh? What do you know of her? Of the family?"

"Oh, fear not.  They are of the best kind; honorable and trustworthy."  Yorozu whispered in a voice of admiration.  Her dark eyes, plain under normal circumstances, grew hazy as she tried to recall a distant memory; "She…" Yorozu paused, thinking harder, "Her name was Kagome, if I am not mistaken.  It was but two years ago that she came to Kyoto if I remember properly.  And, if I am not mistaken, she bore great similarities to you yourself."

Rin, who was eating her noodles ravenously, paused, her mouth full, "Like me?"

Yorozu nodded and offered a napkin to her.  Adjusting her intricately set hair, she continued, "Oh, she was the type that had a wild spirit and determination.  I believe her instructor was…oh, what was her name? Ah! Yes, her instructor was Mori-sensei."

Rin, her eyes wide nodded, as she like a sponge absorbed all that her teacher said.  This girl, Kagome, had been brought to the court, trained, and then left to continue her life in her home country, and marrying one of the most known lords of the time.  

Her thoughts were interrupted as another cloud passed over head, dropping a bucket full of rain across the terrain, the drops sounding like nails against the roof.

"Oh my, terrible weather…" she heard Yorozu whisper, though it was hard to hear.  The building shook and the sound of the gutter pipes seemed to roar in her ears.  The sound of the wooden door sliding back caught her attention, and looking towards the entry, she saw a young man stumble into the restaurant.  Slamming the door behind him, he let out a gasp of air and declared, "What a downpour!"

The manager threw him a towel and bowing slightly, Rin's eyes noticed a sopping wet piece of fur on his rear.  She had at first figured that the man had some small dead animal attached to his belt, perhaps a hunter but now she realized that it was not a small dead animal at all.  It was a tail…

Her eyes widened in surprise and pleasure as she noticed the furry brown ears atop his head, now drooping and dripping like the rest of his body.  She had heard of youkai; and a few years ago, some had attacked her village; but never had she seen one so human like.  If it had not been for the ears peaking out of his unruly hair, and his tail moving from side to side; she would have presumed him just like her.

The man dressed in an attire of a traveler, carefully patted his tail as dry as it could become and then moved the towel to his head where he rubbed vigorously over his auburn hair.  A sly grin spread across the young mans delicate features, and he exclaimed, "Thanks, Oji-san," as he tossed the towel playfully back to the manager who let out a cry of indignation.

"Oi! Now it's covered with your fox fur!" a beam hinted on the edge of the middle aged mans lips, and Rin smiled to herself as she watched the scene unfold.

Obviously, the young man must have been a regular to the restaurant; though it appeared that he had been gone for some time by the appearance of his clothes, covered with a thin layer of mud.  However, there was something interesting about him nonetheless.  He had a smart and clever sort of face; yet not deceiving.  A childish grin still hinted at his lips, and so Rin could not help but wonder if their ages were not so very far apart.  The youkai had cream-colored skin with dark auburn hair that seemed to match his eyes.  The youkai gingerly picked a Ginko leaf from out of his hair, and flicked it over to the manager, chuckling slightly.

"You're disgusting," the manager continued, teasing the man, "As soon as you finish the ramen, go upstairs and take a bath!"

Someone from the bar added, "You're getting the manners of a solider—what, with all tramping about the war zone like you do."

The fox-youkai smirked and called across the room, "Well, at least I wasn't naturally born disgusting, unlike you."

The restaurant flared with laughter and even the manager chuckled to himself as he fried up some noodles.

The youkai settled himself down at a table and poured a small cup of hot sake and drank it quietly, his eyes darting about the restaurant to see if perhaps things had changed.

Rin was so unaware that she was watching him that it took her a moment to realize that their eyes had met and he was now staring at her as well.  Slowly, a thin line of blush came across her face, and avoiding his eyes, she averted her own and turned back to the table where Yorozu-sensei was leaving the money.  Soon they would leave.

Finishing her ramen hurriedly as well as her miso soup, Rin could still feel that the youkai was still watching her from his table across the room. Kicking herself mentally, she sunk lower into the bench trying to become invisible.

"Rin! What have I told you about posture?" Yorozu snapped. "Now, let's go."

Nodding her head slightly, she grabbed her parasol and stood.  Clutching her purse as well, she realized that she would have to walk by the youkai's table.  Her heart beat faster with fear and embarrassment.  Would he question her for looking at him? Would he yell at her?  Would he say nothing and just try to trip her?

_No one would do that, Rin. You are being carried away…!_

She became so nervous that she lost her grip on the purse and it fell to the ground, the tinkling of the silver coins hitting against one another echoing on the dirt floor.  Reaching down to quickly snatch it, she found that another person's hands were already resting atop the silk cover.  Glancing up, she found that it was the youkai who had come to her aid; their eyes meeting again, and she noticed flashes of green in their depths, he murmured, "Here you go."

 "Thank you," she spoke, her cheeks quickly changing from pink to red, as she took the purse from his grasp.  Their hands touched ever so slightly and outside a flash of lightening lit the interior of the shop.  Stumbling back in surprise, she found that the youkai was looking up at her, his expression hard to read; as though something was bothering him.

"Have we met?"  He whispered so that the restaurant patrons could not hear.

"Rin!" Yorozu called from the entrance before Rin could answer,   
 "Come, we will be late."

Nodding, and casting an anxious glance towards where she had just stood, she bowed a final thanks and walked quietly towards the door and opened her umbrella.  As she closed the door behind her, she heard the restaurant erupt with shouts and hoots of indignation and teasing.

"Oi! How come Shippou gets all the breaks?!" someone called.

"Eh! Shippou, not even five minutes---youkai get all the luck, eh, Hiroshi?"

"And look at the state of him! Mud and dirt, and still!"

The youkai, his cheeks aflame, mumbled absently, "Maa! What are you guys talking about!?"

The manager, coming from behind the curtain in the back, his tanned arms carefully holding a bowl of ramen, questioned, "Eh? Did I miss something?"

``````````````````````````````

Standing underneath a small withered pine tree, the two gazed out at the rain that had suddenly started a few minutes ago.  The two of them had just stopped for lunch when Miroku had pointed towards the sky and predicted, "Looks like rain."  Sango, casting a worried glace, shrugged and replied, "I think we have ten minutes or so left before it downpours."

A large drop chose that time to land directly onto her nose, causing Miroku to break out in a fit of chuckles as he quickly gathered the provisions and slung them onto the back of pinto colored horse.  Not finding it amusing in the least, she sent an angry scowl in his direction as she mounted her own stead and kicked it sides.  Already the drops had increased in numbers and in size. Nearly soaked to the skin already, Miroku motioned towards the main road, and explained, "We can use that shrine we saw a half a mile back."

Sango's face was contorted as a bolt of lightening lit the sky causing her horse to rear and throw her back into a puddle of mud and water. Screaming out in pain, the sound was dwarfed by a role of thunder.  Miroku was some five hundred meters away and had yet to notice that she was not behind him.  Her dark eyes watched as the horse fled into the woods, carrying the essential provisions that were needed for the trek to rescue Kagome from Sesshoumaru's hidden mountaintop fortress.

She lay there, feeling as though she was drowning in the pool of dirt.  In deep pain, she moved slightly and crawled to the bank at the edge of the road, her breathing profound as every gasp brought her pain.  She had not yet fully recovered from the battle against Naraku, and the stress of Kagome's visit and now the hard and painful fall off a galloping horse had not added to the healing process.  Water, like small rivers, flowed over her face, and the rain became sharp like needles.   Peering out through her bangs that covered her face, she saw that Miroku had turned and was glancing behind him in a state of alarm and panic.  He had not yet seen her, fallen against the side of the road; his eyes were still searching for the horse, where he had presumed her to be.  His lips parted and yelled her name, but it was unheard through the din of rain and thunder.  At last, their eyes met, and Sango perceived an expression of shock and agony as he urged his horse towards her side.  His figure drew closer and closer as the rain suddenly turned to hail.  The horse's body was covered in mixture of sweat and rain, its muscles glistening in the half-light, their forms moving and pulsating with the effort that charging uphill required.

Darkness covered her eyes, and groaning she fought it back to the shadows were it surged angrily.  A jolt of pain, like lightening itself, surged against her side.  Touching her waist gingerly she found her finger tips covered in a red liquid; blood.  

_So_, Sango thought darkly, struggling to remain conscious, _My wound has reopened._

It was at that spot that during the battle a fierce and grotesque youkai had slashed a poison tipped sword into her side.  At first, she had presumed the wound just a large gash; it would scar, yes…but it would heal.  However, it turned out that the poison was of the time-released kind, working its way slowly into the blood stream before attacking. What had been her savior had been the untouched cellar filled with remnants of antibodies and medicines.  Sango, half dazed in pain and agony due to the loss of her entire village, had foolishly consumed anything she could get her hands on.  The next days that followed had been a half drugged hell filled with ample amounts of regurgitations and drug induced sleep. However, when she awoke on that third day, she found that although the wound was grotesque and fowl—it was not hinted with the green and purple of the youkai's poison.

Blinking back tears and sweat and rain, Sango watched as the horse reared to a stop and Miroku swung off and hurriedly made his way to his side.  His usually tidy hair was wet with strands escaping from the grasp of the tie at the back of his head.  His dark eyes were serious as he felt her forehead with his wet hands.  Noticing a dark stain on her side, his eyes met his and he whispered, "I hope you will forgive me while I take advantage of the situation.  I need to inspect what has happened."

Nodding slowly, Sango gasped involuntarily, grinning ever so faintly, "You're enjoying this too much."

Miroku, beaming slightly murmured, "Maybe so, maybe so," as he lifted her forward so that his head was resting on his shoulder.  Cursing as he pulled at the many knots that untied the simple obi, he talked idly as though he was trying to keep her conscious, or alive.  Perhaps Miroku knew that a great loss of blood would…

"I must admit, this is the first time I have ever been so close to you without you slapping me," he began as he carefully slid the restraint of the corset-like obi and tossed it to the side where it floated on the surface of a puddle before slowly sinking to the bottom. 

"Of course, we have only known each other three or four weeks—so, I suppose I should not get too cocky." 

He had now come to the yukata plan and simple.  Yet, there was only one way to open a yukata to reveal a wound on the waist.  Gulping ever so slightly, and reining back his coursing testosterone, he closed his eyes.  The situation was grave, and there was no time to be thinking such lecherous thoughts as he was.

"Sango," Miroku breathed, his voice questioning.  She did not reply, so nudging his shoulder so as to alert her to the fact he was addressing her, "Sango…"

Waiting another moment, he moved her gently so that he was facing her.  Her eyes were closed, so shaking her gently his expression grew serious as no reaction came from her at all. Moving closer, he put his ear to her lips.  

"Well," he whispered, "You're breathing is stable…so, you're not dead."

Setting her against the mound of dirt, he paused as he wrapped his hand about the material of her yukata. 

"I suppose its better this way, eh?" he sighed as he pulled away the clothing revealing her bare skin and gazed down at the open wound.

``````````````````````````

Walking along the pavilion, Rin idly ran her fingers along the polished and painted wood banister.  Quickening her step and straightening her posture as a sophisticated lady walked quietly by, Rin gazed out onto the garden. It was sculpted and beautiful, as was everything in Kyoto.  The fish were well kept, the trees trained into strange and almost gravity defying forms.  The leaves were all new and green, none burnt by the sun that shone cheerfully down on the city.  Currently, the eye of the storm was passing overhead, giving everyone a much-needed rest from the past week of rain. Finding she was smiling unconsciously, Rin turned the corner and proceeded to Yorozu-sensei's chamber where she rapped quietly against the wooden part of the shoji screen.

"Come in," Yorozu-sensei instructed neither harshly nor kindly. 

Opening the particularly fine screen, Rin bowed deeply and whispered, "Yorozu-sensei, good morning."

Not lifting her head until Yorozu responded, she quietly studied the weave of the tatami mats underneath her tabi-socks.

"Good morning," Yorozu finally replied, her voice cool and unemotional. 

Looking up at her starkly decorated room, Rin found that Yorozu-sensei looked particularly ill this morning.  Her usually pale face was almost translucent, so that the blue and purple veins rushing beneath the surface of her skin could be seen.  Her eyes were not watery, but abnormally dry and cold.  The room, decorated in shades of yellow, green and blue seemed suddenly dark and abnormally cold.

Stepping forward hesitantly, and then deciding that she should sit, she questioned earnestly, "Yorozu-sensei, is something troubling you?"

Yorozu, shifting her eyes only whispered, "I suppose I must tell you."

Rin, her expression concerned and confused, whispered softly, "Tell me what?"

Yorozu, shifting her body so that the brilliantly colored bow of the obi was facing Rin, continued unemotionally, "Rin…I have been asked to tutor a young girl from Tokyo.  In her blood she is related to the emperor."

Rin, casting her head downwards, and studying the pattern of her own silk kimono, whispered, "I see…will she be coming to live with us?"

An exasperated sound came to Yorozu's voice, "Don't you understand, Rin? I will be leaving you.  I have found a replacement instructor.  I am sure you have heard of Naga-sensei, have you not?"

"Yes, I have heard of her." Rin answered respectfully. _I have also heard of her strict rules and terrible personality._

Yorozu adjusted her feat and heaved a great sigh.  Her hair had yet to be styled, so it fell over her shoulders, a tangled mass of raven with flashes of ginger.

"This is all very disappointing, Rin," she admitted, and although she could not see her face, Rin thought that Yorozu was crying.  

Casting one final glance about the room that for the past two and a half months had been her home-away-from-home she nodded and firmly decided not to cry.  It just seemed so unfair, she thought desperately, rising to her feet.  To finally become accustomed to something only to have it snatched away and replaced with something cold and unfamiliar—it was cruel and heartless. And perhaps, Yorozu knew this too.

Standing by the shoji screens, she whispered, "Goodbye, Yorozu-sensei. I hope that our paths cross again."

Bowing silently, she turned to leave and face the brilliant sun of morning.  Pausing, she glanced over her shoulder as Yorozu whispered her strange farewell, "Don't be too frustrated Rin.  My name is Sakura Yorozu, and I was but the daughter of a wealthy merchant.  I know you can accomplish great things."

Blinking back tears, Rin nodded, and whispered, "Goodbye."

Her steps were hurried and light-footed as she fled down the pavilion towards the exit.  She had to get out; this was all she knew. Even if it was just for the day, Rin had to know that there was something outside these walls; a place that was not directed and formed to fit perfectly into some brightly ornamented box.  The scenery, beautiful and pristine, of the courtyard blurred about her so that all the grace and elegance vanished and only an assortment of colors remained. The very entity of nature.  Brushing back her tears that caught the wind, Rin could not help but wish for Sesshoumaru.  Even in the worst of situations he had been there; his quiet continence a comfort in this world of meaningless conversations.

Grabbing the bolt to the back entrance, she hurriedly flung the door open and entered into the real world; not one of ideals and hopes and dreams; but of loss and happiness and burdens and all the hardships that consisted of life.

Her large eyes darted about her; afraid someone might recognize her form.  Shuffling quietly away, she turned left and then right down so many nameless streets and alleyways that by the time she came to her senses, she found herself utterly lost and confused.

Yet, she could not go back. 

_Not yet, _she told herself, _Not until I remember what my life was like—not until I embrace my roots and recall myself for what I am._

``````````````````````````````````````

Sitting casually down on the bench, Shippou handed over the five hundred yen that had been asked of him.  In the past six months ramen had certainly become more expensive—but then, living out in the small country towns and eating off of what the earth had to offer—well, it made him rather stingy with the money that he had.

"Would you care for anything else?" the owner asked, pausing as he put the noodles into pot of boiling water.

Shippou, glancing up, replied graciously, "Yes, tea, if its not too much trouble."

The owner bowed deeply and took from a different pot some clean boiling water and placed it in a simple white teakettle.

"Thanks." Shippou mumbled as he looked through the cloth awning out at the street.  It seemed to have shortly stopped raining, at least for the time being.  At dawn, the sky had been overcast, and now it was but noon and already the clouds were beginning to form.  

A rickshaw carrying chicken and some freshly cut leeks rushed by followed by two girls dressed in brightly colored kimonos.  A few moments later, a boy carrying a toad sneaked upon them causing fits of hysterics and shrill screaming. The boy just giggled and bounded away.

Turning his face into the dim recesses of the ramen-shop, Shippou made conversation by surmising, "All this rain must be bad for the business. Considering this is just a sit and go ramen shop.  The rain must blow in since there aren't really any walls."

The manager, smiling lazily as he drained the noodles replied, "Every spring right before summer the business lulls, yet—once I start advertising my cold noodles, it will pick up again. It always does."

Nodding, Shippou glanced out at the street again.  It felt good to be in a big city again, not to see the fear and terror in the villagers' eyes.  Here, it felt as though the problems of the countryside hardly existed.  He too was beginning to believe them but a figment of his imagination.  Yet, the pain and sorrow of the world was all too relevant.

Eyeing his bowl of ramen sadly, he picked up the chopsticks and quietly slurped his noodles.  Being from a known lineage of fox youkai had always been one of the blessings of his life—he had been able to get a proper education, and actually be respected by humans; not feared, or hated, or just plain ignored.  Coming from this background had been an assurance that his life would not have been as difficult as other youkai. However, being the only son, and the last of his family—it put great burden on him to marry well. 

Because of his family's great influential power, in the youkai community their thoughts and ideas regarding certain matters were always examined carefully.  His family was trusted to have wise and honorable decisions.

Yet, this trust was a blessing was burden at the same time.  It all had started about a year ago when it was heard that a great and powerful force was rising in the south.  His father had decided to make the journey with a trust and loyal tanuki-youkai in secret.  His father believed that it was how people acted when not inspected that determined their true selves.  And so, traveling to the south, his father had inspected this youkai in secret, watched how he treated others—observed his life.

And when he had return, when the youkai had questioned him of the dark youkai's worth, what had his father said?  The truth, of course.  That the youkai's soul was darker than a great thunder cloud, and angry like fire.  The tanuki had agreed and warned all youkai to stay away from this strange one from the south; for he would only cause problems.

And how right the tanuki had been.  Not three months later, there was word that the youkai was even more powerful than before, and wished to obtain as many followers as possible.

But, the dark youkai was not a simpleton. No, far from it.  This youkai understood that to win the populace, they must first acquire their leaders. And so, swiftly and brutally this was done.  It was not hard to do of course.  He promised them everything and anything; money, clothes, love, land, sex, servants—all would be theirs, he insisted.  

It was a grievance indeed; Shippou thought with remorse, that he should be out of the country those six months when all took place.  As usual, he had spent his fall and winter in Sapporo as a local guide for the dignitaries as well as an emergency staff incase anyone was lost in a freak blizzard.  By the time he had returned to his homeland in spring, his family had already been murdered, betrayed by his friends, and his home forever destroyed.

And so, for six months, he had lived his life in the wild, half mad with anger and sorrow, his head filled with plots of revenge.  It was not until he made his way into the city that Shippou had learned of one survivor.  His fathers trusted friend and companion—the tanuki-youkai. It had seemed that the tanuki had fled to the capital to beg the emperor for help in any form.  Nevertheless, by the time the tanuki-youkai had arrived back to his homeland, empty-handed, all had been conquered and won.

There had been nowhere else to turn to but the city. And so, there tanuki-youkai had lived for the past six months, running a small antique shop filled with a few pieces of his own raku pottery.

It was in the company of tanuki-youkai that Shippou had learned of the war between the two brothers—of the quarrel between the inu-youkai, and of the series of events that had taken place.  That Inuyasha, the hanyou, had married a human for her fathers' factory; and that Sesshoumaru, the proudest of all inu-youkai, had taken in a young girl as a companion.  However, it was the news that the dark-youkai now set his sight on their land that troubled him the most.

Of course, nothing could be done; and nothing would be done.  And so, he had fled to Shikoku where he learned the territory and became a sea and forest guide as well. Yet, his life felt fleeting and short on that small secluded pebble of the sea—and so, par tanuki-youkai's advice, he had returned to Kyoto; his second home.

Slurping the noodles thoughtfully, Shippou remained true to his promise that he would not let the past conduct his future.  Yet, before he could continue down his own road, he knew that he had to avenge his family's tragic demise. He had to do something—anything, to avenge their death.  Although he was unsure of the purpose now, Shippou knew that the time would soon present itself.

Finishing the pot of tea, he bowed respectfully and stumbled back into the sun drenched streets of Kyoto.  Nearly colliding into someone who was walking hurriedly down the street, he bowed and apologized humbly, not even bothering to look up.  It was only as he turned away that he caught a glimpse of her face.

Remaining perfectly still, he listened distinctly as her feet lightly walked along the compact dirt of the streets.  His face formed an expression of puzzlement and then deep concentration.  Where had he seen that girl before?  She was so familiar!

Scratching his furry ears in annoyance, he sighed and decided that he would have to ask her.  After all, who was he to pass up an opportunity?  And, she was going in his direction—toward tanuki-youkai's antique shop (where he was currently spending the next few months).

"Excuse me!" Shippou called after her, rather embarrassed.  Although women seemed to like him, usually he did not take much of an interest in them.  Either they were not desirous, or their beauty did not have the same standards in intelligence that he required.

The girl, glancing over her shoulder in surprise, stopped and questioned frankly, "What? What do you want?"

Blinking back in surprise, he fumbled, having lost his cool, "Well, actually—didn't, etoh, I mean, haven't we met somewhere before?"  
The girl, obviously surprised by the question, she reddened and studied his face for a moment.  As if a fire had flared inside her head, she turned bright red and stared down at her wooden geta and tabi. 

"Ah…etoh, yes…" she fumbled terribly, fiddling with her small earlobe.

Leaning forward and peering up at her from her bent position, he grinned slightly and thought in earnest, "I thought so!"

She mumbled something, or grumbled something, and slowly backed away, slipping slightly in the mud from the morning's fresh sprinkles.  Tugging at her kimono nervously, she cast an embarrassed glance in his direction, and murmured, "Well, it was nice seeing you again, youkai-san."

Turning, and walking quickly away, her arms pumping and her face down she had caught him so off guard that it took Shippou a moment to realize that she was trying to get away.

"Oi! Wait!"  Shippou gasped, fuming ever so slightly, yet intrigued by the girls' brazen and then sudden docile nature.  It irked and intrigued him all the same—why was this girl so familiar?

"You're just going to leave, just like that! And not tell me where we have met?"  Running after her, and chuckling as he walked along side her figure that had now nearly broken into a run, he added, "Remember, I am a youkai. I can run faster than you!"

The girl stopped so suddenly that it surprised him, and he continued for a few steps more before falling back to her side, and gazing at her intently, his auburn eyes flaring in the midday sun. Looking at the girl up and down, he realized that this girl was one of the countryside, despite her expensive dress.  Shippou had found that in all his travels, it was the smart and naturally clever country girls that had the most exuberance for life, that drank every drop that they could get in their eager and outstretched hands. No well-bred city girl would have spoken to him so briskly, nor attempted to run in such a lovely and expensive kimono.

Leaning ever closer, gazing down at her, he smirked and urged, "Now where have we met, young miss?"

The girl, her eyes still averted, seemed to be smiling against her will.  Her cheeks were flushed from the run and obvious embarrassment, "Chunari no Ramen-ya."

Repeating the place on his lips, he fell back onto the balls of his heals and rocked slightly.  Chunari no Ramen-ya? Where the heck was that?  Ramen-ya? Did she mean Satoshi Oji-san's place?  Was his last name Chunari?  Possibly…

Thinking back to the last time he had dined there, a particularly nasty and rainy day, he remembered that there had been one very pretty girl who had been sitting (most unhappily) by a middle-aged woman.  As she had left, she had dropped her purse and then…

"Ahhhh!" Shippou gasped, chuckling and pointing at her, "You! The girl who dropped her purse!"

The girl nodded and admitted, "Yes, that was I. Now, may I leave?"

Blinking in surprise, wondering why this girl was so strange, he questioned, "Do you have somewhere to go?"

"Well, I--," Rin began, glancing about her, unsure how far away she was from the compounds.

"Because, I can take you there, if you want, you know." Shippou nodded, smiling in a fox like way.

"I really don't know where I am going," Rin sighed in an aggravated voice, taking a hesitant step back.  This situation was most awkward. Of course she had wanted to see him again, and the fact that they were actually talking amazed her—but why today, of all days?

"Well, all the better!" the youkai clapped happily and motioning them to continue down the street.

Rin, grinning slightly, sighed and conceded, "I suppose so."

``````````````````````````````````````````

The forest was an orchestra of music that day as the trees released all the water that had managed to entangle itself in their branches.  Nearly everything was wet and glistening—from the flowers to the immature fruit.  Even the rocks sparkled like diamonds in the sun.

Miroku stepping along the wet grass, whistled a quiet little tune.  His dark brown eyes were alert and pausing for a moment, he knelt down and pulled at some vegetation.  Cursing at the vegetable for its difficulty in extracting it, he finally succeeded.  A stream was nearby, so walking over to its edge he gave the fragrant vegetable a good scrubbing before continuing on his way.

The forest was flat for the most part, or at least the area he was located in; but if you continued walking quite suddenly, you would reach the base of a mountain rising up out of the ground.  At the bottom of this area, Miroku had managed to find a small cave, which, to his wonderment, had much dry firewood inside.  Ducking his head as he entered, he called, "I've returned, Sango."

From the dark depths, her voice called out, "Where were you? I woke up and I was alone!"

Miroku chuckled and confided, "Really, Sango, I didn't know you felt that way."

It was too bad, Miroku noted, that he could not see her face.  He would just have to imagine her expression…

"Miroku, you know very well that--!" she began, testily, and frantic to set things straight.

"Yes, yes," Miroku nodded, gathering up some wood towards the entrance so there would be ventilation, "Don't get yourself all worked up, your still an invalid, remember."

The girl moved slightly, and the fabric of her clothes rustled.  "I'm not an invalid." She insisted.

Heaving a sigh, Miroku chose to ignore her, and instead he began the task of lighting the fire.  After a few tries, he had managed to succeed, and so, throwing a few large rocks into the flame, he grabbed their metal pot (waiting by the door) and headed out to the creek.

As he did so, he smiled sadly to himself.  Poor Sango.  It was most unfortunate that her wound should re-open, for, as they were both aware, it now delayed them from their task for another month, or at least, three weeks.  Already one week had gone by from that fateful rainy day, and although she was recovering quickly, the wound was still fragile, and potentially dangerous.

Squatting by the side of the creek, he plopped the bucket down into the water and filled it to the brim.  Glancing up towards the morning sky, bright and brilliant with migratory birds and the hints of another oncoming storm, he found that something was amiss.  Hadn't it been…much noisier a moment ago?  Birds had been whistling above the tree tops…

Shaking his head and slightly hitting himself for his paranoia, he made his way back to the cave, picking up some wild chives as he walked along as well. 

Upon returning to the cave, he sat down by the fire after putting the pot over the coals and flames.  As he sat there, waiting for it to boil, he took out a knife and began to cut the chives he had found, as well as the large leek he had pulled out of the ground.  Putting them in the pot, he added a bit of salt, and then withdrew from his bag three or four potatoes that he had managed to bring along from when they left the fallen fortress.  Pealing them as well, he plopped them into the pot and stirred the contents with a clean stick.

Behind him, Sango who must of dozed off again, whispered, "What are you doing?"

"I, my dear lady," Miroku replied suavely, "Am making the two of us lunch. Romantic, wouldn't you agree?"

Miroku would never find out what she thought, for at that moment a figure blocked the entranceway.  Stiffening in surprise and alarm, Miroku remained calm and whispered to Sango to get as deep into the shadows as she could.  From the outline of the form, he would say it was a man; and knowing men's personality, a girl in any shape or form, was his prey.

The figure crouched through the entry way and made his way towards Miroku, questioning in a rough voice, "Eh, now what do we have here?"

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AN: well, a little change of pace, eh? Shippou gets introduced! And more characters next time! Its so cute between Rin and Shippou *melts* it was sort of tough writing him because how am I supposed to know what he is like when he is 16+ years!? So, I tried my best. I left him with a bit of the playful personality, but…adult as well! If you have seen the sketch of OLDER Chiriko from Fushigi Yuugi, I imagine him sort of looking like that? Yes? Anyways, heh, this chapter serves as an introduction to the next chapter where…well, you'll have to see! Anyways, hope you enjoying this!

R + R, onegai shimasu!

Cappie

cappiepost@yahoo.com


	15. the road to beginnings

Author: cappie 

Title: Shadows Against a Shoji Scren 

Genre: romance!/action!/adventure!/mystery!/drama! 

Series: Inuyasha 

Keywords: Kouga, Miroku, Sango, Shippou, Rin, groups 

Disclaimers: I dun own Inuyasha, nor do I own Rumiko-chan, nor do I own much of anything except my BLOOD CD. Ahhh, Takeshi…*faints* 

AN: Sorry it too me so long to get this damn ****ing chapter out. It was a mixture of summer classes, being too tired, too busy, too uninspired, and going to famine that wore me out. Hopefully (though I highly doubt it will, because I know what you guys are all waiting for: Sesshoumaru and Kagome! But it ain't gunna happen [at least, not in this chapter], so just read it anyways, or pretend you did, and send reviews. I like reviews…O_O;;) I did not disappoint anyone with this chapter. We have sort of gotten out of our "nobility" mode, and that's because, we are out in the wild's now! But, I try to keep all characters out of OOC territory… 

Thanks: to Jon, who beta-read most excellently and did not allow my self esteem to take a nose-dive. Oh, also to Savina, who continues (it's madness, I tell you) to beta-read the past chapters of Shadows. 

Anything else? I dun think so. Enjoy… 

Shadows Against a Shoji Screen 

(chapter 15?) 

The Road to Beginnings 

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* 

From within the dry and comfortably warm cave, one could dimly hear the sounds of the leaves rustling in the wind coming from the next approaching storm. It was the middle of the monsoon season, and nothing, except well protected areas such as a cave could withstand the rain. The interior was worn, dark, and smooth and smiled vaguely of old leaves. 

It was outlandish that Miroku should notice his surroundings at a time like this; at a time when strange and potentially lethal strangers were in his midst. The cave was quiet except for the heavy breathing of Miroku whose eyes glimmered in the weak light of the cave, resonating a dark strength that seemed to lie dormant within him. The rustle of fabric echoed through the dark corridor, and Miroku dimly saw that more people began to enter into the small cramped space. The dreary light of the cave did not offer much to which one could study the strangers who had so suddenly appeared in the doorway, their eyes angry, and their voices mocking. Although Miroku could discern that all were men, he noticed (to his horror) that tails hung freely from their backsides: obviously they were potentially dangerous youkai. 

The leader - or what Miroku had presumed was the leader - stepped further into the dim recesses of the cave. His eyes glowed with the appearance of an animal, without limitations; leaning against the wall for support, Miroku shuddered ever so slightly. 

"It seems as though we have some visitors," the leader of the pack noted in a gruff voice while crossing his arms, his eyes glinting with amusement. 

"What should we do with them?" One of the followers asked, his voice quiet and anxious. 

There was a pause, and the three or four behind the leader milled around restlessly. 

"We could kill them," the leader began, scratching his chin full of stubble, "Of course; there are other, more painful, possibilities." 

The remaining followers gave hoots of enjoyment and cackled to themselves. 

"And what about the female, eh?" a man with a particularly flat nose piped up, pointing in the direction of the cave where Sango lay, covered in shadows. 

The group began to groan and hoot wildly into the shadows. Obviously, these youkai were gifted with particularly seen eyesight; for the average person would not have even noticed her form. A few of them even began to slowly make their way over to the back of the cave. Miroku, from his spot next to the steaming pot of stew, jumped ahead of the few lecherous men and cast them determined and livid glances. 

"She is wounded, and she is mine." Miroku snarled, panicking slightly as he saw all the faces turn angry and defensive. It was highly unlikely that if he took on this pack that he, let alone Sango, would survive. 

"You will leave her to me," the boss warned, his voice dangerously low as he stepped closer to Miroku and pushed him irritably aside. The males gave hearty laughs, suggestions prevalent throughout. It was common knowledge of what girls were good for, out here in the countryside; obviously their leader knew this fact all too well. 

"I said," Miroku breathed, from his crouched position on the ground, "The girl is mine." 

Miroku, standing up slowly, stretched his hands nervously. He had not expected such an encounter in the least, and what weaponsthey did have were packed carefully away, hidden in the back of the cave. If possible, he could make a running leap towards the sacks, hidden carefully in the shadows; yet, by the time he would manage to find them he would most likely be surrounded and there would be no hope for survival, or at least victory. 

'This does not bode well,' Miroku thought drastically, contemplating throwing the boiling stew on them. Yet, what good would that do, but to waste a meal? 

Stepping forward, he called tentatively, "If you please, before you kill us, or torture us, or whatever you have planned, could we finish our meal?" 

A figure in the back hollered, "What the hell for?" 

Trying whatever way possible to avoid death or Sango getting 'taken advantage of', Miroku thought quickly, "It is always so much more pleasant when you can die feeling content rather than hungry." 

The men began to talk amongst themselves in hurried and rapid whispers, yet their chief cast an angry scowl and snarled, "Shut the hell up, all of you!" The cave returned to a hushed silence, except the merrily bubbling of the stew. Although most of the men were rough, the leader seemed to be an ever-so-slight breed apart from them. His stance was taller, more dignified, as though he had truly earned their right as being the head of the group. His muscles, although evident, were subtle, unlike those of his counterparts who bulged out from their bodies, anxious to prove their strength to the world. Yet, for the leader at least, the world already knew his strength, so he had nothing to prove. 

The leader, now facing them once again, eyed Miroku for a moment. The youkai was about to decide his and Sango's fate, and whatever personaMiroku gave off would tip the scale one way or another. 

After a pause, the leader barked, "You won't try anything funny, will you? Because if you do…we will show no mercy, and kill you slowly…" 

Flashing a grin, Miroku replied, "I swear, on my honor as an advisor, that we shall not try to escape." 

The ring leader grumbled irritably, "Then get to it, already." 

Smiling, and bowing, Miroku called to Sango, "Can you come out on your own?" 

He could hear her shifting about nervously in the darkness. Obviously, she was astonished by his course of action. Well, Miroku thought, that made two of them. 

"I-I think so." She bit back, her voice full of mistrust and fear. 

"Well then, in that case…" 

Leaning over his pack, he withdrew some shallow bowls along with some died seaweed, onions, miso, and a bit of fish flakes. Motioning for the fortified pack to be seated, Miroku began to chop up the onions and drop them into the steaming brew. The gang was obviously distracted by Sango as she moved slowly into the light. There were a few appreciative whistles and hollers, and very scathing looks from her. Miroku found that he was shaking with anger and indignation regarding their behavior; it was one thing to kill a person, yet it was another to holler in such a fashion. 

Closing his eyes, he blocked out the scene. 

What was he going to do? What was he going to do….how… 

Opening his eyes as a low growl sounded through the cave, he found that one of the men was flushing in embarrassment, "M'stomach." He explained after a moment of glancing about the room from face to face and gulping as the boss scowled at him. 

"Ah, I see." Miroku nodded, smiling pleasantly. Opening his mouth, he found that he had been cut off by the quiet and gentle voice of Sango. 

"If you wish," she began, her head bent, "You are welcome to the stew. It will need to be thinned out however with water…" 

The men eyed their leader for a moment, who after a minute of silent debating with himself, nodded a short and static agreement. One of the men grabbed a leather canteen that hung from his belt and slipped out of the cave into the speckled sunlight of late afternoon. 

Shocked by her blatant invitation towards the rough men, Miroku decided that a bit of conversation could do no harm. 

"So," he began briskly, stirring the stew as he added a bit of miso, "Who are you gentlemen, dare I ask?" 

The leader, casting him an irritable and annoyed glance, ran his hands through his messed black hair and sighed, "Part of the Nishi no oukami pack." 

"Oh?" Miroku questioned, trying to find the correct balance of sweetness and interest so as not to upset his guests who were slowly (or perhaps it was just his imagination) warming up to him. "So you are wolf youkai then?" 

One of the men from the back spat angrily, "Yeah, you got a problem with that?" 

Miroku, shaking his head, insisted, "No, not at all. In fact, my lord, you see I am an advisor, is a hanyou himself." 

This news seemed to cause a wave of disturbance through the four men remaining and they spoke in hushed and hurried voices. As usual, the leader yelled at them to be quiet, and instead turned towards Miroku. 

"And who might your lord be?" the leader asked abruptly, leaning forward, his dark brown eyes meeting Miroku's for a split second. 

Sango coughed slightly, but no one seemed to notice. 

Glancing nervously about at the company, Miroku licked his lips, and replied (praying to God that somehow Inuyasha had managed to not make enemies with some wolf pack in the course of his history), "Aa…have you heard of, em, Lord Inuyasha?" 

The cave erupted into shouts and yells. 

"Lord Inuyasha—," 

"That hanyou—," 

"But how—," 

"God damn it, I—," 

"Did you hear about him and that—," 

"And his human wife—," 

"I hear that—," 

"Quiet!" shouted the leader, standing up, his eyes ablaze as he faced the rest of his pack. "Quiet, all of you!" 

The cave fell into a hushed silence, except for the clinking of the ladle against the pot where the stew was brewing. 

Sango coughed again, and then, to Miroku's amazement, began to speak, "Yes, Miroku's lord is Inuyasha. However, us two have been separated from his lord and at the moment haven't a clue of where he is." 

The cave remained silent. Obviously, this group was more interested in the fact for a moment of time Inuyasha might have been nearby. 

"You don't know where he is, you say?" The leader barked, suspicion lighting his now narrowed eyes. 

Outside, the sound of nearing footsteps approached; a few moments later the man appeared, calling, "I have the water!" 

"Excellent!" replied Miroku, motioning for him to toss the leather canteen in his direction. The sack flew through the air and hit Miroku on the head. A few laughed, a few grunted in indignation. 

Rubbing his head with one hand, and pouring the water into the soup with another, he eyed Sango in appreciation as she began to slowly win them over with her soft and gentle voice. If this tribe could be so mesmerized by Sango, then perhaps there was hope after all; hope of their survival. Casting a side-long glance towards the leader, he gulped as he saw him eying Sango with distrust. 

"You see," began Sango, sitting up primly, "My late father was a master of killing youkai." 

The group shivered involuntarily, and bore their teeth in anger. _Yes, this will win their trust surely_, Miroku sighed sadly as he stirred the stew in an idle fashion. It was better he did not interrupt. 

"However," she added, quickly, "We only kill the weak ones who attack villages without purpose and who kill innocent people. I am sure none of you would stoop so low as to shame your packs name." 

The leader snarled angrily, "We do have honor! And we have never attacked a village without purpose, or unless they had denied us food because we were youkai! We are superior to those who ruin the youkai's name!" 

The group gave a hearty cheer and slapped him on the back. Miroku was rather touched by their camaraderie. 

Sango, who had forgotten her injuries for the time being, nodded and gave a warm smile, "I am glad to hear that. I could tell that you were not the sort to kill innocent humans without reason." 

_Aa__, so they were bluffing,_ Miroku sighed to himself, embarrassed by his innocence. 

"Miroku," Sango continued, motioning to him, "And I are on a journey to find Lady Kagome, Inuyasha's newly wed bride. You see, while Inuyasha was away visiting other nobles, she took it upon herself to visit my home which had been attacked by a warlord." 

The wolves exchanged looks that were hard to read. Whether it was trust, fear, or anger, Miroku knew not. He decided not to say anything, and continued to watch the stew, adding a bit of salt. 

"She stayed there for some time, but was unfortunately kidnapped." Sango concluded, heaving a great troubled sigh and looking towards the youkai for support. 

"Don't you know who kidnapped her?" the leader questioned, leaning forward, now obviously speaking for the group. 

"We have an inkling," Miroku whispered, "However, there are two possibilities, and for each…well, their fortresses are both heavily guarded with spells and the like, so that their locations have enchantments to appear invisible, except to those that know the magical art." 

The youkai murmured to one another, their eyes flashing to Sango and Miroku's faces, looks of interest and pity and excitement just beginning to be sketched. A chance of hope began to arise in Miroku; if he and Sango could play their cards right, then perhaps these youkai might help them on their quest. 

"How do we know you're telling us the truth?" a youkai from the opening questioned, his arms crossed in irritation. Another angry glance from the leader was issued out. 

"We…can't." Sango admitted bowing her head, and gingerly touching her wound to see if the bleeding had stopped. 

The youkai snorted and turned his back towards the two of them, his face resembling Inuyasha's so very much at the moment. That same stubborn and irritable expression… 

The cave was quiet now, each person lost in their own thoughts. _Probably,_ thought Miroku, _the youkai were wondering whether or not we can be trusted; whether or not the whole tale was a farce. It does not sound very convincing, even to me._

"Stews ready…" Miroku announced softly as he began to ladle the meal out into shallow wooden bowls. There was plenty for seconds, and perhaps by that course, the youkai would have made up their minds one way or another. Either they would disappear into the night leaving Sango and himself alone bruised and in pain, or else… 

By the time the second course had begun the youkai had begun to talk to one another in low hurried whispers. Obviously, Sango and he could not partake in the conversation, so they just pretended to be staring into the bowl of stew—however; their ears were alert in attention, hoping to catch some key phrase words; such as 'help' 'trust' and 'possibilities'. 

Yet, by the time the bowls were collected and handed dubiously to Miroku, a decision had yet to be made. 

Quite suddenly, the boss stood up, and pointing to Miroku, instructed, "You go wash the dishes." 

Blinking in surprise, Miroku nodded and stood up as well. It was better not to argue with this pack, he had learned. He was somewhat startled when leader fell into step behind him. Pausing at the entrance to the cave, Miroku tried to illustrate to Sango that hopefully he would be back "soon". The boss halted as well and warned, "If the girl even so much has a scratch on her when I get back…" 

His expression turned fierce and dangerous, and even Miroku had shivers up his spine. This youkai had definitely deserved his title as the leader. 

As the two walked out into the dewy night, Miroku noted that the moon had come out and was peaking quite prettily through the pine trees. The stream was still gurgling quietly along, although it was accompanied by the steady rhythm of frogs and crickets. Their footsteps were brisk and light, rustling the grass only slightly. 

As they neared the river, the leader, his eyes glowing once again, although full of moonlight this time, began in his low and gruff voice. 

"What you say, about Lord Inuyasha…" he began unsteadily, "This is true? You have no idea of his location?" 

Nodding solemnly, Miroku found he was suddenly relaxed. Probably, due to the fact that all his lackeys were inside flirting with Sango. 

"I was sent to leave to retrieve his wife. By the time I located her whereabouts, both she and Inuyasha had disappeared." 

"Do you suspect that they are together?" the leader inquired. 

Miroku had to force himself not to laugh. He had to remind himself that not everyone knew of the "unique" relationship between Inuyasha and his spouse. 

"Hardly," he chuckled, "You see, both are very spirited, and so this does not make for a harmonious relationship." 

It was now the youkai's turn to laugh, and although it was gruff, it was heartfelt, "I know all too well of Inuyasha's temper. We have met numerous times before, and although I am not fond of him…we…," he paused, looking for the correct word, "We share a mutual respect towards one another." 

"That is heartening to hear," Miroku admitted, smiling. Such was the case with many people, at least when it came to Inuyasha. Few liked him, but he was respected in the highest esteem by many. 

Leaning over the side of stream, Miroku began to scrub at the wooden bowls. 

"Do you have any idea about where either of them are?" asked the youkai, his tone serious and inquisitive. 

Now it came down to it. Now was the final test. The part that Miroku had been avoiding. 

Miroku was well aware that Naraku's twisted methods were beginning to quickly spread. Most village folk knew of the warlord, yet when any dignitaries from the city came to visit, few believed the commoners word. And so, it was that most of the counties knew of Naraku, but those individuals which could throw the most weight around, were subsequently left in the dark about the whole affair. Naraku only allowed himself to be known by those he wished to know. It was for that reason that Naraku had selected Inuyasha. Naraku knew very well and good that the hatred between the two brothers could never be calmed, and so, by dangling the prize of victory and revenge in front of his masters' eyes he had managed to win Inuyasha's allegiance. 

This select group of wolf-youkai had probably heard of Naraku, yes, there was no doubt about that. Yet, the real question was: had they managed to avoid Naraku's grasp? 

It was for this reason that he had to sound extremely neutral when it came to Naraku—he could not voice his opinion on the dark lord until the youkai had given his own. 

"Have you, er—have you heard of a man named Naraku?" Miroku questioned, as causally as he could manage. 

Quite suddenly, his hands were flying in the air, his body lifted off the ground and slamming into the back of a particularly large and painful pine tree. Gasping for breath, he found he could take none whatsoever. Staring down in shock and surprise, he found that the youkai's hands were wrapped furiously around his neck in an attempt to strangle him. 

"Who sent you?!" he yelled angrily, his eyes now alert and red and shining. 

"No…Nobody sen-sent me!" Miroku gasped, trying to unclasp the youkai's terribly strong grip. 

"You lie! It was him who sent you wasn't it? Where are other others come to kill us?!" the youkai pressed him harder into the tree and a piece of bark dug painfully into his spine. Miroku was beginning to feel light headed. 

"I sw-swear to you, nobody sent me. N-Naraku is our enemy, I—," Miroku coughed, still trying to undue the grip, which to his relief lessened slightly so he could somewhat talk in a coherent manner, "I needed to be s-sure you w-wer-weren't a spy! We th-think Naraku has kidnapped Lady K-Ka-Kagome!" 

The youkai's eyes had lessened slightly in their color and had changed into a deep tinted auburn color, but still a great angry frown resided on his face. "Are you sure? Because I can easily rip you apart, you understand that? If I find that my men have died from food poisoning, I shall be sure to rip you, very slowly, mind you, from limb to limb before I myself die." 

Struggling now, Miroku implored, "I s-swear on my hope of reincarnation that I am not lying. I swear that Naraku is my enemy!" 

He fell. Hard. Onto a collection of stones which had been by the base of the tree. The youkai clapped his hands together and scowled irritably down at him. 

"I'm sorry about that. Naraku has been after me and my tribe for some time now. No one can truly be trusted. We must suspect everyone." 

Casting a sickly grin in his direction, he hoisted himself up and murmured, "Understandable, understandable." Taking a few great gasps of air, he added, "But please, the girl is already injured. Let us not make it the both of us." 

The youkai laughed a bitter laugh, yet one nonetheless. "You understand, you still don't have mine, or my packs full trust." 

Bending back down to the stream side, he rubbed his rear absently before continuing with the bowls, "I do understand. You won't have mine for a while either, I suppose, after what you just did." 

The youkai flashed a menacing grin, and squatted down to help Miroku with the bowls as well. 

"So, you believe Naraku kidnapped Inuyasha's wife. Kagome, was that her name?" The youkai questioned, as he dried the bowls with part of his shirt and stacked them neatly on the bank. 

"There is one other possibility," Miroku conceded, "That is that Inuyasha's brother, Lord Sesshoumaru, has stolen her. They have a bloody and violent history, those two, and Sesshoumaru is so desperate to get his father's sword from Inuyasha that he would try everything, you understand." 

The youkai let out a low whistle, and admitted, "I have heard much of their past. Something to do with a girl, of some sort. I'll tell you, I would never get myself mixed up in all these damn love triangles that go on between these lords and ladies." 

Miroku chuckled, and gazed up at the crescent moon, having reappeared from behind a cloud, "Sometimes," Miroku said quietly, his voice low and serious, "Love in unavoidable, and it is unlucky that two people fall for the same person." 

"Or sometimes," the leader laughed, "Three!" 

The two chortled for a moment until the leader interrupted quite suddenly, "And would you need help on this little journey of yours? You don't seem to be doing very well, if I say so myself." 

"Well," sniffed Miroku in a mocking voice, "Thanks for the encouragement." 

"About the only thing you've got going for you are the fact that you can cook and the girl is quite a pretty sight." 

Miroku chuckled, and ran his hands through his hair, somewhat come undone through the days events, "Well…I suppose we need all the help we can get. Naraku or Sesshoumaru won't be an easy task alone, and cooking and good looks can only get us so far." 

The leader nodded, and fiddled with his tail as he picked out a few burs that had become caught in the fur, "Oh." He added, "And the girl, Sango? She is an exterminator, so I guess she can use that bone monstrosity for something useful." 

Pondering, as the two walked back towards the cave, Miroku admitted, "I have yet to see what that thing does. It should be interesting." 

Miroku, halting suddenly, turned towards his new-found (if not violent) companion. "Do I have to call you Boss, or do you have a name?" 

The youkai turned to him, and smiled, revealing smirking fangs. Running his hand through his unkempt hair, and scratching his ears, he murmured, "Kouga. But Boss is fine with me. Gives you an ego boost like y'wouldn't believe." 

* 

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The buildings were gray and quiet in the early morning light. Sun had yet to break through the horizon, leaving the city of Kyoto in a hazy wash. The thatched buildings were dark in the shadows, yet strangely illuminated by the glow from the overhead sky. The sky itself was pale in color, a light blue reminiscent of a cold winter dawn. It was dappled here and there with droplets of buttermilk clouds giving some interest to what would have been a plain and rather uninteresting canvas. 

Within such a thatched building glowed the light of the candle, casting outlandish and mysterious shadows within the room and out onto the street. Two figures sat within the space where the light was located, each facing one another from across a worn mahogany table. 

The first figure was that of a young and pleasant young man, good looking by all accounts, yet emanating the presence of adventure and mischief, evident in the glint of his amber eyes which flashed with green speckles. His hair, a dubious auburn, was unkempt looking; so that it took a great deal of inspection for one to actually realize that a pair of soft and fury ears grew from his scalp. Dressed modestly in a casual wear, his elbows were planted firmly atop the tabletop, resting there as though he was not half awake. In one of his strong hands were grasped a cup of tea, now beginning to cool. 

Across from him was a middle aged man with cunning and simple features. His face was traced with weathered wrinkles, yet his overall enthusiasm and movements were that of one young at heart and in step. His hair, a simple cut, was speckled with a mixture of black, gray and white. So well camouflaged were his small black ears that it was possible for this youkai to live a normal life as a human. His eyes were a deep brown, similar to the bark of a pine tree. The middle aged man moved ever so slightly, and motioned towards his partner as he mumbled, "You're tea is getting cold, Shippou." 

Shippou, the auburn haired young youkai across from him, cast him an exasperated sidelong glance, but begrudgingly slurped at his tea in a rude manner. After a considerable amount of noise, he sighed in an annoyed voice, "I'm too nervous to be drinking tea. I'm so tired, but I can't sleep. Do you know what I mean, Genbu?" 

The grey haired man nodded and smiled, washing at least ten years off his face. "Aa, yes, do I ever." 

A slight beam washed over Shippou's face before he buried his head in his arms and let out a long sigh. The light of morning began to peak through the windows of the house. 

"She sleeps?" whispered the elderly tanuki youkai. 

The younger nodded, and sighed, "Though not for long, I can hear she is beginning to stir." 

Genbu chuckled softly and sighed, "Aa, you're hearing is so good, Shippou. I guess such senses are expected of a young kitsune." 

Shippou said nothing but instead allowed his eyes to slowly wander about the room. 

Outside the sounds of life began to echo through the streets: the whispers of a creaky wheel on a cart, the cackling of ducks off to market, the staggered steps of a drunkard returning home. 

From within the room where Genbu and Shippou were comfortably seated, the rustle of cloth and the light sighs of a person rousing from sleep whispered all throughout the den traveling through the shoji screens. Shippou, resting his head on his palm, formed an expression of deep concentration. How had this all come to be? The fact that Rin now slept quietly in his bedroom, the reasons behind his actions to help the girl… 

Genbu stood up and mumbled that he was going to make breakfast downstairs and he would call the two when it was ready. Shippou hardly acknowledged him; instead his amber eyes were focused on nothing in particular as the memories of the past few weeks flooded through his head. 

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It had all begun….the day that the two of them had met. It had all begun innocently enough, Shippou supposed, remembering as he had helped her find her way back to her residence. In that strange time of forty-five minutes or so, the two had become friends; although at that occasion he knew nothing of her plans or ambitions. No, it was purely innocent. Rin, the country beauty, was lonely and disappointed with the city; he, Shippou, the last of the kitsune-youkai in the Yamanashi and surrounding prefectures, needed a person to which he could confide to. In the end, it had worked out perfectly that the two had met; that the two had become close in such a small amount of time. 

After that, through some miracle, they had managed to see each other twice a week. Due to the strict nature of her compounds, he had been forced to develop an alias so he could write freely to her. It was true that her new instructor found all the mail from 'Mouri Tsubaki' rather disturbing, yet, Rin, however innocent, was also cunning to the greatest degree. 

Their locations were never the same, in case by some accident they were recognized and reported. Rin had the most to loose, truthfully. Shippou—if accused of some foul deed, could flee the city and return back to the country, despite the onslaught of war that he could discover upon his return. Rin, however, was bound to the house of 'delicacy and refinement'. Although she had briefly admitted that her guardian had sent her there, he had received the distinct feeling that there was more to this back-story of Rin and her life than he had first presumed. 

Life had continued on breezily, as had the rains. And for a time, their meetings were beautiful and meaningful, like the dainty flight of the butterfly against the harsh rains of society. Yet, in the third week of the monsoon season, Rin had begun to elaborate on her relationship with her guardian. 

He could still remember her hesitant voice as she tried to illustrate the delicate nature between the two. 

"He is," She had begun slightly, sipping her tea, "Not related to me by blood whatsoever." 

"Oh?" Shippou had asked, leaning across the table, intrigued. Perhaps there was more to his little bird then he had first reckoned. 

"In truth," she continued, "My parents were killed." 

It was at that time, that moment exactly, that Shippou released the information which would be the catalyst to the series of events that he now had found himself in. "Yes, mine were as well. By a demon named Naraku." 

The cup had dropped from her delicate hands and shattered against the pine table. The amber colored liquid dripped off the edges, like tears of a young child. 

"N-Naraku?" she whispered, her large eyes wide with fright and fear and apprehension. 

He had nodded grimly as he motioned for a waitress to clean up the spilled tea. The tea had distracted him from her response, truthfully; and so it was only until a moment later that he realized that Rin - his pretty song bird - knew of, or at least had heard of the allusive dark lord. 

"You know of him? That is, you know of who I speak of?" He had asked suddenly, aghast and shocked and bitter as the memories from his dying past sparked to life once again. 

"He is…," She had paused, her eyes moving quickly, as though some great plan or battle was in the making. Rin was a cunning young sparrow. As though she had come to some decision she explained, "You must understand, Shippou, that my guardian is…is a very powerful warlord." 

How powerful? He had lazily wondered, finding her story incredulous. 

"Have you ever heard of Sesshoumaru-sama?" She questioned innocently, suddenly direct and straight forward like an arrow flying to the target. 

Shippou, one of the masters of disguise, especially concerning his emotions, allowed his eyes to open wide in amazement, "Do you mean, Sesshoumaru the lord of the western lands?" 

"Why yes," she had answered, "the very one…" 

Then how was it that she knew of Naraku? He had, Shippou heard, been trying to keep his power very quiet and dark—Naraku was waiting, waiting for something or something to be unearthed. 

"Sesshoumaru-sama is his ally." Rin had answered simply, her eyes filled with fear and apprehension. Could it be, Shippou thought darkly, that Naraku's murderous deeds were unbeknownst to Rin and her guardian? Would it have been possible that rumors of Sesshoumaru's aloof nature had isolated him from information leaking through the great mountains? 

It was all entirely feasible. 

"His ally? To Naraku?" Shippou had growled, slapping his forehead and motioning to a nearby waitress for some Sake. Would Rin's fate be the same as his? Would she have to suffer in the same way for a second time? Would Rin watch her new guardian be slowly poisoned and brought to their downfall from such a youkai…? 

"Please." Rin had whispered, her voice serious, her posture suddenly more erect. "Tell me all you know about Naraku." She had bowed low, her head touching the table, her hands beneath her brow, her neck bare and gleaming. 

Shippou had regarded her for a quiet moment. Such an innocent girl was Rin. So innocent was she that she had yet to realize his budding emotions towards her. The tactics and brutalities of war were only words on an ancient scroll. Although her past had been bloody, the world had yet to loose its magic. If he answered her plea, would he be the bearer of the jaded and cruel world that lay beyond her small and unprotected walls? 

Yet, he reminded himself, Rin wished to sink into the dark world and withdraw from its venomous pools her guardian who was slowly slipping in, his eyes blind to the reality of Naraku: the one youkai who could bring about the end of an era in a single flick of the wrist. 

"I…," he paused. Unsure, yet there was no going back. Life was a one-way thoroughfare. 

````````````````````````` 

So enthralled had the young kitsune been with his memories that when the nearby shoji screen slid open, he jumped back in surprise. Looking up, he found a disheveled Rin smiling down at him in her kind and sweet way. Strands of flyaway hair were escaping from her bun, and although still tired, she was refreshed. Unconsciously, even against his will, he found his cheeks flushed as his eyes roamed her figure. 

"Aa-g-good morning, Rin," he stumbled as he beckoned for her to take a seat where Genbu had once been. 

She smiled, shook her head, and replied, "Would it be acceptable if I bathed?" 

Trying to remain as stoic as utterly possible, Shippou gulped and grinned, "Of course. That is fine. Genbu is downstairs preparing breakfast, though." 

Rin waved her hands, as though to suggest that she would not dream of disturbing him (for the bath was located downstairs.) 

"It's no trouble at all then, I will just go to the public bath." She decided, as she turned back into the darkened room where she had just slept. Alone. The rustle of fabric was heard and Shippou presumed she was looking through her clothes to decide what she must wear. A few moments later, she pronounced, "I am leaving now, Shippou." 

Hoisting himself off the floor, he followed her downstairs, through the collection of pottery and a few scattered treasures. When he arrived at the door, he causally leaned against the frame as she opened it and walked out into the cool crisp air of morning. 

"Take care and be safe," Shippou had warned in earnest, waving slowly at her retreating figure. 

Pausing before she entered onto the main street, her body illuminated in the first glorious rays of the sun, she bowed low and called, "Thank you, for all this." 

Taken aback, Shippou nodded and rubbed behind his head. What was there to be thanking him for? Their future journey was their destiny, which through some strange twist of fate had been momentarily intertwined. There was nothing that she should thank him for, no, nothing at all. 

Glancing up, he wondered if she was still there. Yet, she had already merged into the morning hustle and bustle of the market place. Turning to face the dusty interior of Genbu's small and old shop, he felt a twinge of loneliness now that Rin was gone. It was astonishing how much he had begun to depend on his small bird, and when she was not there, the world seemed suddenly all too bleak and unforgiving…. 

````````````````````````` 

Closing her eyes, she pushed herself underwater and allowed the great warmth of the liquid to encase her. Even underwater, surrounded by other people, she felt protected, as if nothing could harm her. When submerged, there seemed to be no war, no fear; there was nothing, only the warmth and the water. 

Breaking to the surface, she lazily leaned against the cool tile wall and allowed the anxieties and stress that she had been carrying to slowly melt off her heart. Rin knew that in the coming weeks such aliments would return, probably ten fold. At this moment, however, she was at peace; she was in a state of limbo, being nothing and everything at the same time. She felt content with the emptiness and allowed herself to glimpse at her memories, like sun in-between the leaves, casting dappled shadows. 

It had been two weeks ago that she had managed to convince Shippou of her plan. Although she had suggested it before, he had refused it almost immediately. It was too dangerous, too foolhardy. 

"You will get killed!" he had yelled, his voice strangely full of emotion, "And—And--," he has gasped terribly, as though trying to put a lid on his unsealed emotions, "Neither I, or Sesshoumaru-sama could handle such a loss." 

She had been touched, frankly. Rin had never known that his emotions towards her ran that deep. She had always thought of the two of them as friends, even from the very beginning. Of course, like all girls, Rin had wished for something more, something deeper; but if such emotions were not returned, she could be content as friends. At least, this was what she reminded herself day after day. 

Before she could allow herself to love, she had to prove herself a strong woman. 

Yet, as the weather slowly became finer, and the approaching summer nearing on the horizon, she could not help but feel the anxiety well up in her breast, and the pain and guilt float to the surface. With summer came the inevitable war. Rin had to warn Sesshoumaru, she had to allow her guardian to hear Shippou's information of the dark lord. Whether or not Sesshoumaru's decision wavered, at least he would know the truth about Naraku; at least he could always remain prepared, guarded—and never taken by surprise. 

Yet, Shippou had been against traveling back to the countryside. There was war, he insisted, there was death. What the pillaging soldiers did to young girls, Shippou had exclaimed, was something that Rin should never, ever, have to experience if the two of them became separated. 

Perhaps she had surprised him with her knowledge about the cruelties of life. Perhaps her wisdom had softened the blow of her request. Perhaps… 

Yet now, now she would leave; she would return to her homeland to warn her guardian. Although the road might be difficult (particularly because they were traveling on foot as soon as they reached the deep countryside), Rin knew that in the end she would persevere, even if it cost her life. 

She had to continue on. Rin had to grant her life to Sesshoumaru, in return for him saving her own. 

Tomorrow…Rin repeated to herself as she wrapped a towel about her body, tomorrow morning would be the day when she would return to her home country to face the truth, with her eyes unclouded. 

Bowing quietly as she left the bath house, she returned to the small store that in the past few days had become her second home. The smell of miso soup and cooking rice greeted her nostrils, and opening the sliding door to the entryway, she called out merrily, "I've returned!" 

````````````````````````````````` 

The gray light of dawn swept quietly through the sleeping city of Kyoto. Even the cats had stopped trotting through the streets. All was quiet. 

Or so it seemed. 

Two murky shadows appeared, followed by two larger shadows which trotted quickly behind them. They sped on, the four of them, from time to time merging with the form of a building of the shadow of a tree. It continued this way for a half an hour, until they reached the edge of the city where the rolling hills grew more and more sparsely populated. Once they reached the main thoroughfare, known as the Tokaido road, saturated with the shadow of pine trees, the two paused and seemed to exchange a few brief words. The decision was made. 

Now only two large shadows existed, galloping down the dusty and lonesome road. 

As the two reached the peak of the first hill, the sun broke through the horizon, casting the world in the glow of the faintest yellow. The trees glistened like crystals as the dew sparkled and shone. A slight wind rustled their hair, and so, the two turning to each other flashed hesitant smiles before they urged their horses forward and onward into the wild. 

* 

`````````````````````````` 

* 

AN: author's note! Yattta!! 

*ahem* anyways, this chapter: As far as Kouga goes, I did not want to "officially" give it away that it was him until the end of the chapter. Although, I a pretty sure you guys all figured it out WAY before then! Anyways, yep, all the characters (except for a few I might create) have entered the story! Rin and Shippou are heading off to warn Sesshoumaru. Inuyasha is being lured by Naraku. Sango and Miroku and Kouga are off to find Kagome, although that might be easier said than done—and what of this war that this whole story is supposed to focus around? Well, don't worry. It will happen sooner or later, I just have to get all the people in the right places and write some more about romance, romance, traveling, betrayal and more catalyst for plot thickening. 

Kouga's portrayal: I found him rather hard to write, because most of the time when we see him, him and Inuyasha are all pissed off at one another for some reason. He is sort of dark and quiet in this story, but he is also (as demonstrated) physical and angry. Note: _Nishi no oukami_ technically means _wolves of the west._

Rin and Shippou: uhm, yes, their part of the story was weird, because I did not give it to you "play by play", so really, a lot has been left out. However, I will elaborate on it more (eventually). 

God, this story just has so many layers that it is hard to remember them all! If you have any questions about plot holes, or the like, please tell me. 

Also, as far as pairings are concerned in this story: I'll say it again: Just read and **_stop_** asking me!! You will just have to find out! This story is not like my other ones, so, that means the pairings might be different. Or not! Aren't Ijust eviiiiiiiiil? ^^;; he he he…I know, I know, you hate me. You all do. 

Read! Review! Make fondue! 

cappiepost@yahoo.com 

or, if you are reallllly desperate to talk to me… 

AIM: kantou matsuri 

Note: this might not appear on my webpage as quickly as I would like it, because the hard drive crashed and everything got deleted. You know what that means? ^_~; Time to get a bootleg copy of dreamweaver and start all over again! 

Did you actually read this far down? Write in your review if you did! I will send you a "congrats for reading my rant" e-mail! Ooooh! Fun fun, ne?? 

^____^ 


	16. allusions of the night: intermission

Author: cappie (chan)

Series: Inuyasha

Category: AU/Romance/Action/Adventure/Drama

Title: Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

Keywords: Inuyasha, Kagome, Kikyou, Naraku

Disclaimers: Inuyasha and all its characters are not mine. This world I created and the plot of the story, however, is mine.

Summary: In the feudal age, Inuyasha and Sesshoumaru are two feudal lords at war for precious belongings and past wrongs.  Enter Naraku and Kagome, and suddenly, the tables turn.

Authors note: I was thinking about it today, and I came to a conclusion that Part II to this story should be ending in no more than 5 chapters.  I know I want to make one of them focus on the Japanese festival known as Obon.  I also know that I need to get back on topic with Inuyasha and Kikyou and Naraku.  

Warning: This chapter does get ecchi!! Uhm, there is nothing particularly rated R here. As harmless as a teen movie, I would say. But, I do know some of the people who read my stories are young, so saying that: read wisely.

Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

Chapter 16

Allusions of the Night: Intermission

The air itself hung with the overripe sweetness of a summer's day, yet the wind which blew from the ocean was hinted with the cool and comfortable atmosphere that the countryside longed for.  Fragrances of ripening plums and apples drifted lazily through the open shoji screens; shadows, from the nearby Japanese maple threw random designs onto the pure paper barriers.

Blinking back in surprise, Inuyasha closed his eyes quite firmly.  This had happened before; so many times before he had longed for Kikyou that she had actually appeared in front of him.  In his sleep, he could have sworn he felt her touch, in the air he could hear her voice.  There had been that one time that he had been so disillusioned that he had even allowed his wife to take Kikyou's form.

It could not be, his mind screamed at him. She is dead, long gone! There is no hope for you, be content with what you have.

Yet, hope remained true within Inuyasha's soul.

There were so many things in this world that Inuyasha had yet to discover, so many things that Inuyasha couldn't comprehend—and for all he knew, the dead could return to him.  Perhaps, if the will was strong enough.

And here she sat in front of him, bathed in moonlight.  Her eyes were still deep and dark holding mysteries that only he could unlock.  Kikyou's hair still retained that iridescent quality causing a halo to surround her figure.

Instead of her normal priestess garments she wore a light blue summer yukata, hanging loosely about her as though it acted as a robe.  No obi was present, so the front of her body could be seen, glistening bare in the light.

Licking his lips, he felt that long forgotten emotion arise within him once again.  The lust and the love, the desire that he had to possess her body, her mind, and her soul…it returned all so clearly now.

Outside the crickets amongst the grass and hollows sung sweetly and their song reverberated within Inuyasha's sensitive ears.

He wouldn't  say anything, or else he was sure, she would vanish.

"It's me, Inuyasha…don't you remember?"

She will disappear and merge into the darkness.  Say nothing, enjoy your illusion while you can; Inuyasha told himself, shutting his eyes and trying to find peace.  Yet he could not shut himself against her; he could never close himself against her…

"Inuyasha…Please don't tell me you have forgotten about me."

Her eyes, so deep and dark, were now streamed with tears.  Never had she displayed such emotion before; surely she was some vengeful spirit come to make mockery of him.

"I'm Kikyou, the-the girl you promised your heart to…"  She stuttered slightly as she stepped forward from the ground to the interior of the room.  Her wooden shoes clattered against the stone and her yukata fell open, revealing her breasts.  Kikyou crawled like a crab towards the ocean, to its source of life.

She is not real! Inuyasha repeated over and over like a Buddhist chant. She is dead, gone, just a memory…she is not flesh and blood.

And then, he felt her cool hand against his neck and his eyes opened again, slowly looking deep into her own.  The touch was no illusion; it wasn't a figment of his imagination.  Her fingers ran underneath his evening kimono, as light as a feather and as tender as a memory.  They probed deeper now, gathering and pulling away at the clothing about his shoulders, slowly undoing the loose knot that held the attire to his side.

The two were bare and unconcealed in the moonlight now; their eyes alit with desire, memories and with hope and despair.

"Kikyou," Inuyasha whispered, closing his eyes, a sad smile hinted on his lips, her smooth and pale form cradled in his arms, "How could I forget?"

Her transparent summer kimono fell away revealing a body that Inuyasha had longed to touch and feel for so many moons.

Her grip tightened, and sitting up on top of him she smiled down at Inuyasha, the tears still flowing from her deep eyes, "I knew you would remember, Inuyasha.  I knew…"

Leaning down, her fingers combing softly through his silver hair, she kissed him.  Slowly the kiss grew and deepened, interlocking tongues, tasting tears and sweat mingling with other flavors.  Yesterday and tomorrow was forgotten for Inuyasha; there was only her, him, and their love.  

No questions were asked. No answers were given.

*

Naraku closed his eyes and leaned against the wall to his room.  A slight smile plagued his lips and his fingers ran idly through his hair.  Except for a light blanket thrown over his lower body, Naraku was completely exposed.

He stood up quite suddenly, the blanket falling down to the ground in a crumpled heap.  His path was direct like an arrow to its target, and opening the shoji screens swiftly, he entered into his most precious room.  The basin glowed as it always did, its silvery liquid swirling in random patterns and circles, going nowhere and everywhere at once.

Leaning over the edges, he dipped his index finger into the substance and whispered in his deep husky voice, "Show me Kikyou."

The image materialized quite slowly and the darkness that was rampant throughout the house showed even more so here.  Even the moon had become hidden from the world through a large cloud, so the chamber and its occupants were cast into shadow.

Before he could discern her figure, Naraku could hear Kikyou's ragged breath mingling with grunts, groans and sighs.  He closed his eyes and chuckled.  Really, Inuyasha was too easy to win over, _especially in bed._

Naraku knew he would get his turn with the hanyou soon enough.

Turning his back to the basin that still hummed with the sound of their love, he closed the screen behind him and returned to his chamber to wait.

She was quick, although she could be slow if that was what he wished. Yet, at the moment, Naraku wanted the job to be done; a decisive victory, no more of this skirting around the subject.  Kikyou's job was to win over Inuyasha's heart—and she had succeeded, at least, so it would seem.

Naraku's eyes, a deep purple in the night, swiveled to the door that was sliding open.

"So, you have finished?"

"Yes," Kikyou purred, kneeling by a bucket of water and cleaning herself of Inuyasha's scent, "I have finished."

"And how did it go?" Naraku questioned darkly, mild interest evident in his voice. _Was he very good, Kikyou? How did my diamond taste? Hard?_

He chuckled at his own pun.

"He was easy to win over." Kikyou replied, glancing over her shoulder, a mad grin swept across her features, her dark hair falling across her back.

"I must admit, I am not surprised.  When was the last time he got _any?"  Naraku mused to himself, not really expecting an answer._

"I was his first and his last." Kikyou answered, combing her hair now.  It had, in its haste, became rather tangled.  "He told me so afterwards."

"By god.  Can a man or youkai live so long without—," Naraku gasped, utterly taken aback.  Perhaps such were the ways of hanyou, he could not guess.  When he won Inuyasha over to his side and bed he would make sure the hanyou would never have to wait so long ever again.

Kikyou was standing now, her bare body towering over Naraku's reclined figure.

"What are you standing there for?" Naraku snapped with a wide smirk spread across his face as he grabbed Kikyou by the wrist and pulled her into a deep kiss.  

*

Inuyasha awoke slowly and somewhat in a daze.  Last nights events was a blur of emotion for him; so as he opened his eyes, he found it highly unlikely that Kikyou would have returned from death.

The call of a mockingbird rang through the house from its location somewhere outside; the wind caused the bell outside on the porch to chime.

"Good morning, Inuyasha." A voice greeted quietly behind him.

Turning over, he smiled lazily and whispered, "I thought you were a dream."

The morning sun was streaming over her seated figure.  As though he had been transported into the past, he remembered similar mornings such as these.  The buttercup color of the tatami mat reflecting from the morning sun, her kimono glistening in its rays, her fingers brushing against his forehead.  Shifting from her position in front of a mirror that he had not noticed before, Kikyou smiled warmly.

"No.  I am here.  I'm real." There was such great strength and wisdom behind her voice, he noted absently as he hungrily studied her features.

The mirror glinted, almost sinisterly. 

Inuyasha slowly sat up, a beam plastered on his face as he watched Kikyou comb her long hair.

"You still comb your hair the same way," he noticed, his amber eyes focused on her face, "You still take long strokes, first starting at the bottom and then working your way up."

Kikyou smiled a smile that did not reach her eyes.  After a few more minutes, she placed her ivory handled comb down and once again turned to face Inuyasha who was still regarding her with looks of wonderment.

Do not think of the reasons, he told himself.  Do not ask questions, do _not…_

"You should take a bath.  You smell."

Had it been anyone else but Kikyou, Inuyasha most likely would have yelled something very obscene in their face. But it was Kikyou, and that made all the difference.

"Oh?" he questioned innocently, "Do I?"

She laughed her lucid giggle and insisted, "Yes you do!"  She had hit him playfully on the shoulder in her jest, yet he had caught her hand and held it firmly in his strong grasp.  Inuyasha's dark amber eyes turned to her, and asked seriously, "Will you take a bath with me?"

A flush came to Kikyou's pale cheeks and she questioned in a derisive tone, "Don't you think that is a little perverted?"

"Just a little," Inuyasha admitted, smirking with a dash of sparkles in his eyes.  "But," he added, his tone serious and dark again, "I don't want to ever loose you…once was already too much."

Encircling him about her, Kikyou hugged him tightly and whispered in his furry ears, "I'm not going anywhere Inuyasha.  I will be in the dining room waiting for you to join me for breakfast.  I promise. I promise you."

She withdrew from the embrace a little sooner that Inuyasha would have liked.  Her warmth seemed always temporary now, like the warm rays of the sun on a winter's day. He studied her, depressed and anxious and full of fear that he was still asleep.  Dreams had never been this real before, yet there was a first time for everything, he supposed.

"Do you promise?" he insisted.

"Yes," she whispered, her eyes averted.

"I had to witness you die once…" Inuyasha whispered, cradling her face in his hands, "I would never want to see such a crime again…"

Kikyou, placing her hands over his, closed her eyes to stop her tears from falling down her cheeks.  "I promise, Inuyasha, I will never die again unless you wish it.  And you would never want that, would you?  So you see; I will forever be by your side."

Inuyasha nodded and smiled blurrily at her form.

Gathering his clothes slowly, Inuyasha left her alone in the bedroom.  Her words hung heavily in the air about her, but Inuyasha was too elated to notice their meaning.

A moment later the screen shut with a click leaving Kikyou alone once again.  The mockingbird continued to sing, though the bell did not chime this time.

Kikyou's eyes began to close in a tired way.  Lifting her hands towards the heaven, she called for the souls that she needed so desperately.  She was still weak, she realized this…yet there was so much that needed to be done, so many lies to make Inuyasha happy, so many plans to scheme with Naraku…it was all so much…

*

The sounds of laughter, the clink of porcelain, the silence, the low voices; all was typical of breakfast.  It was the time of day to begin things anew, the time of day that yesterday's deeds would be forgotten, or in the case of Inuyasha, replaced with new pressing matters.

Adjusting his hair ever so slightly, Naraku studied himself briefly in the koi pond near the garden path.  As usual, he looked stunning.  He did have to admit that this shade of red gave such a wonderful contrast against his fair skin.

_Perhaps Inuyasha will notice…_

No.  _Of course not.  Inuyasha only sees Kikyou—there is no other for him now, Kagome is slowly becoming a memory…__she will not even leave a watermark on his intellect._

_Kikyou on the other hand sees only me…and such will be the way of everyone come the end of this ordeal._

Opening the screen to the hallway the sound of voices grew nearer.  They were soft and low, as though neither wished for their information to leak like water through the floorboards.

Naraku had now reached the door to the dining room, and opening it, Naraku found his dark eyes meeting Kikyou's own cunning orbs.  There was an exchange of looks so brief and so sudden that Inuyasha was still rambling on for a few more seconds to notice Naraku's entrance.

"I hope," Naraku began, bowing slightly, "That I am not disturbing anything."

"Well," Inuyasha began moodily.  Ah, the boy was jealous and irritable when it came to his lover; yet such actions were expected of Inuyasha, were they not? Inuyasha the hot-headed, angry and distrustful little hanyou.

"You are not disturbing anything, I assure you, Naraku-sama,"  Kikyou hurried suddenly as she reached for Inuyasha's empty teacup.  Pouring the steaming liquid most expertly into its depths, she continued formally, "I hope you slept well."

Raising his eyebrows in appreciation, Naraku smirked deviously and admitted, "Why yes, I slept _most _excellently."

Inuyasha snorted to himself before scowling down into his rice bowl.  Yet suddenly, realization dawned upon him and he raised his head and inquired in a cool and aloof voice, or at least as well as he could manage it, "Naraku," he said slightly pausing, "How do you know Kikyou?"  Naraku chuckled jubilantly to himself and conceded, "Ah, I knew you would notice.  It is quite a long story, remind me to tell you later on.  Breakfast is not the place to get into a lengthy story that could take the whole day—I find it better to wait until nightfall when there is _nothing _to do."

Inuyasha stared openly at Naraku's audacity and arrogance.  Inuyasha could think of nothing to say—he very well couldn't force the information out of him, let alone spurn his questions of Kikyou's sudden appearance.  It was Inuyasha's hope that perhaps the gods had granted him forgiveness—or perhaps Kikyou's powers were more holy than he had first believed; and through some bizarre turn of events she had returned.  Yet, he had found himself wondering while bathing—why did it take her so long to return?  Had she been trying for these past sixteen years?  Or was it that his love had grown so strong for her that during the previous night, even through death, she had been drawn to his side?

This was a mystery Inuyasha was planning on looking into quite seriously.  The proceedings had been so strange and out of the ordinary that Inuyasha still had trouble believing that Kikyou was sitting across the table, smiling at him.

"And you, Inuyasha," Naraku questioned, after observing him for some time, "How do you feel today?  Better, I hope?"

The hanyou chewed on a bit of his pickled cabbage salad and didn't reply for a moment; he was lost within his confused thoughts.  When he did finally respond, it was quiet and subdued. 

_So, he does not want to cause a scene in front of his precious.  Understandable._  Naraku supposed as he swirled the contents of his refreshed teacup. 

"I slept fine."

And that was it.  No elaboration, no flood of questions, no hints, no conspiracies: there was absolutely nothing.

"Ah. Well then.  Shall we waste no time?" Naraku continued breezily on, hardly paying attention to Inuyasha but instead eyeing Kikyou with intensity.

"Continue on? With what?" Inuyasha stated, mildly ill at ease.  His brows were furrowed together and a slight scowl tugged at his lips.  Something he could not remember was bothering him.

"With plans, dear boy, with plans…" Naraku continued, turning his attention to Inuyasha, swiftly withdrawing his hand from the recesses of his happi jacket and running his fingers along Inuyasha's jaw line.  

_Promising, this boy.  Promising._

Inuyasha withdrew suddenly, glaring at Naraku with his intent distrustful dark eyes.

Continuing on, Naraku motioned to a servant and whispered something into her ear.

She scuttled away, her face blank, emotionless and unattractive.  The servant's hair pulled back in a crisp bun that gave away not one strand from her scalp.

"Now, you must send out an order."  Naraku instructed, withdrawing a piece of parchment from a nearby shelf with a list of characters inscribed onto its yellowed depths.  Naraku's eyes sparkled and shone with relish.

"An order?" Inuyasha repeated, rather dumbly.  The poor boy just wished for him to leave, Naraku knew, but now was the crucial moment to assemble the armies.  It was the peak of the monsoon season, so as far as rice cultivation went; few things could be done until the weather had cleared.  By the time the rain ended, so would the battle.  Early August was the deadline for these series of events to be drawn to a close—and Naraku, no matter what the consequences were, would demand that they prepare presently instead of anon.

"An order to call for arms, from your subjects, of course."  Naraku sighed bitterly, sipping his steaming cup of tea and casting an irritated glance in Inuyasha's direction.  Leaving no time for thought, he continued, "And I suppose you should also write a letter informing Sesshoumaru that you are planning on going to war.  If I may remind you, Sesshoumaru has yet to taste your revenge."

That caught Inuyasha's attention, and he nearly spat out a gulp of miso. "What!?" he roared.

"Inuyasha…" Kikyou began hesitantly, reaching out a comforting arm.

"It will be a cold day in hell when I write to that asshole!" Inuyasha continued, successfully ignoring his lover. 

"Ah, I feared your reaction would be as such," Naraku told in truth.  Really, Inuyasha was just like a children's book in all of his actions.  So predictable was he.

"Could you really blame me?" Inuyasha continued bitterly, a scowl stamped onto his features for the next ten minutes, "After what he did…to Kik—,"

"Of course, I could take the disgusting responsibility of writing to him I suppose.  I would send him just the facts, you realize.  I hardly know the youkai so there would be no other pertinent forms of information to be exchanged."  Naraku cut in hastily.  That had been close, too close.  A second longer and perhaps Kikyou would have suspected that he had turned the tables on her.  She might have realized that it was lies he had spoken to her on that humid day.  Perhaps she would have changed alliances…

"Would you, Naraku?" Inuyasha questioned hastily, scowling into his half eaten cabbage salad.

"Of course, dear Inuyasha.  After all, what are alliances such as these for?" Naraku purred as he touched Inuyasha's clawed hand.  He pulled away almost immediately.  But it was of no matter—his diamond would soon polish just enough to give a dull glow only for him.  Like the fireflies, Inuyasha would only come alive at night.

The two men shifted their view to study the only female in the room; Kikyou was looking outside at a mockingbird building its nest in a pine tree.  

*

_To __Lord __Sesshoumaru___

_I hope that these past weeks have found you in extraordinarily good health.  After all, you will need it for the upcoming battles, will you not?  My spies have managed to gather information which notifies us that Inuyasha is planning for his attack to take place in the fourth week of July—this is the time of the full moon so he will be able to use his power to its maximum capacity.  However, you too shall be in the peak of your strength, so I have no doubt in my mind whatsoever of whom the victor shall be.   My spies have also managed to learn that he hopes to claim your defeat in no less than a week— although he is allowed unlimited supplies from the house of Higurashi, his other alliances grow short of patience and will only supply a limited budget.  If you push hard in the beginning days, you can easily claim victory over Inuyasha and your father's sword. _

_I must apologize for so rudely leaving Inuyasha's bride at your residence those few weeks ago.  It was uncertain business, but I have managed to produce the desired effect after having successfully brought Inuyasha's past lover back to life with help from a half-deranged witch.  You may now see to whatever actions appropriate to deal with his bride, for she is no longer of no importance to the hanyou.  Kill her, or let the courtier lady fend on her own in the wild.  That would be amusing indeed._

_I will contact you shortly with information._

Frowning, Sesshoumaru took the parchment and hung it over the flame of the candle and watched it burn slowly as the ashes drifted aimlessly to the ground.

**

*

AN: short chapter. Yes, I know. I know. 

Read, review and the like.

cappiepost@yahoo.com

AIM: kantou matsuri


	17. standing in a fire

**Title:** Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

**Genre:** romance/action/adventure/drama

**Series:** Inuyasha

**Chapter keywords:** Kagome, Sesshoumaru, Naraku

**Chapter 17:** Standing in a Fire

**AN:** This chapter sort of decides to grab Kagome and Sesshoumaru's relationship by the horns and forcing it in one direction. It is the lovely villain who decided to do this. I particularly like this chapter because Naraku is being direct and…ecchi dare I say? Okay, maybe not ecchi—but he wastes no time in claiming his territory.

**Plea for help/guidance:** I recently started downloading Hikaru no Go, and of course, as soon as I start, it gets licensed. Anyway, if anyone has downloaded the entire series, I would be willing to pay them for the CD's and the shipping just so I would not have to pay for the $30/dvd.

**Shadows Against a Shoji Screen**

**Chapter 17: Standing in a Fire**

It had been a week since Sesshoumaru had received his letter from Naraku, since that time the seasonal monsoon rain had lessened and in a few more days would be blown out into the great Pacific Ocean. There was a feeling of anxiety in the air brought by the end of the gloomy and depressing weather. Farmers were ready to go back to tending their precious rice crops; travelers and wandering monks were yearning to feel the open road beneath their sandals.

Resting his head lazily onto the palm of his hand, Sesshoumaru regarded his study in mild annoyance. It was not as though he didn't treasure every book, scroll, or work of art, yet something was missing and that made it incomplete.

_What could it be…?_

His scowl deepened even more as he heard the familiar squashes of Jaken waddling down the hall toward his chamber. Jaken was supposed to be keeping an eye on Lady Kagome, but of course, Jaken despised her as he had Rin—so, whenever possible, he made excuses and left her free to gallivant wildly around the country.

"Sesshoumaru-sama!" Jaken gasped as he flung open the shoji screens in a most inappropriate manner. Beads of perspiration were forming on his prune-like skin suggesting that the demon had ran all the way from wherever he had been formerly located.

Swiveling his deep stormy golden eyes towards the small figure, he hissed bitterly, "Have you no manners?"

The demon gulped and backed away from the recesses of the room and slowly slid the screen shut. It was quiet for a moment, and closing his eyes Sesshoumaru waited for the proper entry that would be demonstrated by loyal servant.

The demon was seated outside the screen and slowly slid the screen open from his position. His voice was humble, low and devoid of any emotion, "Lord Sesshoumaru."

Not opening his eyes, he replied, "Yes, what is it, Jaken?"

"May I enter?" the frog demon's voice asked again in a self sacrificing manner.

Sesshoumaru smirked and allowed time to slowly drawl by. He could feel Jaken's impatience mounting to a breaking point.

_But remember, Jaken, patience is a virtue as is demonstrated by myself everyday upon your arrival…_

"Yes, you may enter." Sesshoumaru instructed, adjusting his seated position so that his back was straight and his manner formal.

Jaken entered, walking ever-so-lightly on his feet until he bowed low and placed himself down before the lord.

The game between the two had grown dull and boring, Sesshoumaru decided as he eyed Jaken with disdain. Deciding to end it as quickly as possible, he remarked, "What news do you bring, if any at all?"

Jaken gulped and spluttered out, "My Lord, Naraku-sama has just arrived at the entrance of the house to pay you a visit."

Sesshoumaru's frown deepened, and springing to attention he yelled, "Does this man ever send any warning that he is planning on visiting?!"

Striding over to the closed shoji screen with his silver hair fluttering behind him, an aura of anger and impatience growing about his frame, Sesshoumaru paused at the doorway. A voice whispered to him from behind the panel. The voice of _him. As the hushed words were spoken the screen slowly slid open revealing to the morning light the striking creature: Naraku._

"My dear Sesshoumaru," he informed, "Where would be the pleasure in calling on people when they are prepared? All I see then is a stage with performers…"

Stepping back ever so slightly, Sesshoumaru sighed, "Stage or no, one _does_ wish to have some forewarning about your arrival."

Sesshoumaru turned on his heel and took his arrangement behind the low desk onto which a few papers were strewn. Naraku waited at the door, eyeing the study with some admiration. His deep orbs fell onto the shelves of books, the great wall scrolls from China, the Buddha from India, and finally a large and very old map of Japan with every city, road, water source, and mountain range clearly marked.

"A fine collection you have here, Sesshoumaru," Naraku perused, wandering about the room, picking up a book here or there and glancing through its pages. "Yes, very nice indeed…"

There was a suggestive and possessive tone in the dark lord's voice that Sesshoumaru found unnerving—as though he was looking through property that he would one day own.

"Are you here to look at my collection of books or to partake in a discussion?" Sesshoumaru murmured in a casual manner though his eyes were narrowed at Naraku's back as though deciding exactly where he should stick the dagger that lay quietly in a drawer behind him.

"A discussion, by all means," Naraku purred, turning to face his ally, one of his delicate hands placed on his waist below a silk sash. "Yet I would feel more…" he paused and eyed Jaken with an evident stare of loathing as he sorted through his vocabulary for the correct word, "at ease if you dismissed this frog thing over there. He is rather disgusting to look at."

Jaken bristled as Goosebumps appeared on his skin. "I-I'm not a frog demon!!" he barked, glaring up at Naraku in those large watery eyes.

"Well, whatever you _may _or may not be, go. Now." Naraku insisted, pointing towards the doorway, his expression mocking in its contempt.

Jaken swung around to face his lord and sputtered indignantly, "L-Lord Sesshoumaru!"

Meeting the demon's beady eyes, Sesshoumaru heaved a sigh and conceded, "If your absence means we may get down to business, then I demand you to leave at once."

"B-but!" Jaken insisted, a flush rising to his cheeks.

"At once!" Sesshoumaru hissed, his long and razor sharp claws glinting in the early morning sun.

"Yes, Sesshoumaru-sama," Jaken sniffed, shuffling quietly out the room and sliding the screen shut with a snap.

*

The water gently lapped against the side of the pagoda half submerged in the mountain lake. The clear depths of the liquid could be seen for several meters down highlighting the smooth and polished stones that lay on its sandy bottom. From high up in the rafters of the pagoda (used mainly for tea ceremonies and conferences), the tinkle of a wind-bell sounded through the morning stillness. With the call of the bell, a figure seated in the shade of the structure stirred, and the fabric from her kimono rustled.

The outline of the girl appeared to be slightly confused as she rose to a standing position and leaned against one of the pillars for support as she gazed out at the mirror-like quality of Suzuran Lake.  

The girl smiled at the scene before her and reminded herself that she should visit this place much more often. There was something extremely peaceful and relaxing about this vantage point of the lake. Ahead of her she could see the surrounding sandy shores that gently sloped down into the depths of the deep placid water. Behind the lightly colored foreground was a bit of grass where seasonal flowers bloomed in large quantity to escape the dark and shady recesses of the forest. Beyond the fields, green from the monsoon rains, was the dark and inky forest consisting of tall pine trees and low and horizontally lying maples. The servants had told her that in the autumn the forest was ablaze with color and probably the most picturesque spot in the country was the shores of Suzuran Lake. The forest continued from its point by the waterside and rose steadily into the surrounding mountains that bordered the castle on all but the eastern side where they slowly lessened to form a deep and fertile valley.

Folding her needlework and silk thread into a small basket, she walked down the cobblestone path lined with deep green moss and dried pine needles. Glancing up at the sky filled with buttermilk clouds colored in varying shades of cream, white, and gray, Kagome felt something stir within her soul. A feeling, an emotion, one that she could not yet comprehend was calling to her. It was a low soft call, a soft voice, wise and trustful. Her smile faltered and she gazed at Sesshoumaru's fortress in apprehension. Despite the fact that the sun was splashing off of the woodwork in a pretty fashion, there was still something sinister lurking in the morning shadows. Kagome would later learn the reason for the buildings dark appearance and aura. Hurrying her step, she found one of the servants walking along the veranda, her arms full of a tray filled with tea and rice crackers.

The servant, Kagome believed that Fujiko was her name, bowed and greeted her with a good morning. "How has your embroidery been progressing, Kagome-sama?"

Kagome beamed and replied in turn, "Very well, thank you."

There was a pause in the conversation. Really, Kagome should have excused herself for some mundane reason—an excuse. Yet, she found herself wishing to talk to Sesshoumaru. Kagome often found the emotion, the desire to speak to him, although hardly she answered its call. She had to remind herself, more so than usual it seemed in these past weeks, that she was married. Kagome had a husband.

"Excuse me, Kagome-sama, is something ailing you?" Fujiko questioned as she leaned forward. The teacups rattled on the lacquered base of the tray.

Stepping back in surprise as a pale wash of pink spread across her features, she answered, "No, nothing is bothering me. However…"

What would Sesshoumaru think? What would he do…?

"Yes, Kagome-sama?"

It was already too late. The dice had been tossed; there was no going back now.

"May I take the tea in to Lord Sesshoumaru?" Hearing her voice, faltered, nervous, and wavering, she felt like an idiot.

"B-but of course," Fujiko answered, taken aback. It was unheard of that a noble lady of the court should desire such a meager job of bringing tea, yet Kagome was now the lady of the house, commanded Sesshoumaru. Her word was equal to his and as such, all orders should be obeyed.

Taking the pastel colored tea set; Kagome bowed and thanked the startled servant profusely. Continuing her walk along the veranda, she felt a sudden chill crawl up her spine as she reached Sesshoumaru's study. The sun had fallen behind a cloud casting the world into a temporary shadow.

*

The screen behind Sesshoumaru's desk had been flung open to reveal a private porch, which had a spectacular view of the surrounding countryside and the valley far beneath the castle. The porch itself was sturdily built into solid granite, though below it there was a sharp decline into the tops of evergreen trees some one hundred meters away. Their tops swayed in a breeze that came in the general direction from an approaching head of clouds just now visible over the horizon. Sesshoumaru had to remind himself mentally that although the monsoon season would soon end, it had a few good storms left in it still. In the past, he remembered distinctly, the monsoon season had been known to last until the beginning of August if the trade winds were particular slacking that season. From what he had heard from Edo, there was not a promising chance that the countryside would have significant time to dry off before the war began.

A few minutes before he had demanded of Fujiko a pot of tea, and although Sesshoumaru realized his grounds were extensive to say the least, he also knew it did not take ten minutes for it to arrive. His patience was growing thin. Tea was a distraction, and a welcomed one at that. When it came to Naraku a period of ten minutes could seem like an hour because of all the attention that he demanded. Naraku was a narcissist and loved himself first and foremost, but second only to himself was his hunger for power and attention.

Tea was something that Sesshoumaru could sip, the teacup something solid he could hold in his hands and its depths a place to where he could avert his eyes.

Currently, Naraku was perusing his personal collection of books. Although the thought disgusted him that the fiend was looking through some of his most treasured collections, the thought of having to talk for longer than earthly possible steadied his balance and forced him to find peace within himself.

The scrolls on the wall fluttered in the breeze filled with the scent of salt and damp earth. Casting one last glance at his lands, Sesshoumaru turned and motioned for Naraku to seat himself comfortably. Tea or not, it was rude to stall in such a fashion.

As Sesshoumaru seated himself, his eyes slid unconsciously to the door. He could hear steps some fifty meters away, yet in the meantime Naraku had already begun to make conversation.

"Am I mistaken, or did you order tea?" he inquired in a drawling voice as he leaned against an armrest cushioned in a deep burgundy colored silk.

Not meeting Naraku's eyes, Sesshoumaru replied smoothly, "Yes, I did."

"My, my, Sesshoumaru! What are servants coming to nowadays if they cannot fix a pot of tea in under ten minutes?"

Sesshoumaru could tell that Naraku was testing the water and how deep he could wade in before he was over his head. Currently, Naraku was half way to trying his patience.

Gritting his teeth, Sesshoumaru replied noncommittally, "I am sure there is a practical explanation."

The steps stopped outside the screen and Sesshoumaru could hear the rustle of fabric as she seated herself onto the tatami mats. The screen slid open, and not even bothering to look, he motioned for her to present it to them.

Her light steps swished across the freshly laid floor, yet he was suddenly caught off guard as he recognized an all too familiar scent. That of lilacs. Sesshoumaru had yet to look up when Naraku's voice broke the hushed silence.

"Ah, Kagome-sama! So, we meet at last!"

Naraku's voice was overly sweet, camouflaging the ruthless nature beneath the mask. Snapping his head to attention, he stared in utter shock as he watched Kagome kneeled and placed the steaming pot of tea before the two gentlemen.

Of all the times, of all the places, this had been the worst possible moment for Kagome to appear. Now Naraku had the upper edge and information that one day he could use against him. A potential weakness had been discovered, and he had to quickly hide any traces of it before Naraku could latch on like a half crazed dog.

Replying in a particularly uninterested voice, Sesshoumaru motioned to the stunned Kagome who was looking at the stranger with looks of interest and apprehension. She had already seemed nervous, and this sudden manifestation of Naraku had certainly not helped her situation at all. He pitied her.

"Higurashi," it felt strange to address her in such a way; Kagome suited her so much better. "This is Lord Naraku."

It was hard to remember that Kagome had married Inuyasha. Higurashi was no longer her name.

The teacups rattled in the tray as she poured the fragrant liquid and bowed her head. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Naraku-sama," she replied graciously.

So, the fiery girl had manners after all. This did not surprise him as much as he thought it would. Kagome was a lady of the court; she knew how to be gracious when she pleased to be.

Handing the cup of tea to the dark-haired lord, Kagome, Sesshoumaru noticed with some concern, averted her eyes and turned down her mouth as Naraku continued to speak. His voice was thick with the intonation of arrogance and obvious jubilation. Naraku had now decided to overlook Kagome's presence and instead turned all his comments toward Sesshoumaru.

"So, you decided to keep the girl after all!" Naraku exclaimed, a wide amused smirk on his lips and sparkles of malice in his eyes.

"I do not know what you mean," Sesshoumaru replied coolly, sipping his tea and looking Naraku directly in the eye.

"Oh, come now. We are allies, are we not? Let us be frank about the whole situation. There is nothing to hide—and I am sure she couldn't care less about it. Or at least hardly notice." Naraku waved his hand breezily towards Kagome's seated figure that was now placing the dish of rice crackers on the tatami mats, "After all, what do these courtiers discern, hmm? They are all so busy with their Tales of Genji and perfumes and silk, why would they bother to pay attention to one such as me?"

Sesshoumaru did not reply, instead he was staring at Kagome, waiting for what her reaction would be. Had it been he who had spoken such words, he was sure that an argument would have issued at once. Yet, perhaps her behavior towards him was unique in her regard towards men. Perhaps when it came to Sesshoumaru she allowed her true and individualistic personality to show instead of hiding it under many layers of refined delicacy.

Watching her carefully, Sesshoumaru noticed that her eyes had gone glossy from the beginnings of tears. So, it seemed Kagome knew how to play the part of the domicile courtier. He was disappointed. Someone needed to prove to this jackass Naraku that they could not be stepped on. Had Sesshoumaru not been in his position, attached with strings and ropes, or at least it seemed to Naraku, he would have gladly taken a razor sharp blade to the pretty boys' tempting crown.

"If you will excuse me, Sesshoumaru," Kagome whispered, bowing and not bothering to take the tray with her. Her exit was extremely fast, however each motion was careful in its movements so as not to attract excessive amount of attention.

Studying her face as she left, he felt suddenly a strange emotion overpowering his being as he noticed her blue eyes glanced to his figure. She was calling for his help, although he had none to give. As the shoji screen slid shut, it dawned upon Sesshoumaru that he had not allowed her to leave the room.

Naraku, of course, had noticed as well.

*

It was two hours after midday and the sun had become obscured by the onslaught of an afternoon shower. The raindrops fell against the blue tile roof causing a gentle rhythm to echo throughout the serene grounds of Sesshoumaru's. Although it was only two hours after midday, Kagome had decided to take a bath. After hurriedly leaving Sesshoumaru's study, she had fled into the woods to the familiar meadow now speckled with large yellow and white flowers hidden amongst the grass. Kagome, since that day two months ago when she had tried to escape, had not yet broken the boundaries of the meadow. She had yet to travel into the distant trees however much they called to her. Recently, she found that their call had grown soft and instead, she found herself content amongst the well-trained gardens. Perhaps, Kagome had reasoned, she was becoming domesticated like the bonsai she trained. Or, on the other hand, perhaps she had grown fond of the place and of its master.

The image of a miniature maple tree sprung to her mind.  How beautiful was a trained item.

Today the anger inside of her had risen to a boiling point, and daringly, she had defied her own inner voice as she broke into the line of trees and headed into the deep woods. She had no plans to escape, yet Kagome just wished to clear her head of the anger and humiliation.

After three hours of walking through the forest Kagome had not found peace.  Instead, her anger toward 'Naraku' had grown and her infuriation toward Sesshoumaru had doubled in its amount. Was it just her ignorance that had caused her to believe Sesshoumaru actually respected her? Was it her adolescent nature that had convinced her that there was friendship flowing between them, or perhaps, even more? Had she been wrong in her judgment of Sesshoumaru? Perhaps he was as arrogant and cruel as the rumors had assumed.

As she neared the grounds, she found a servant tending the gardens, a large basket tucked under her arm. Angrily, Kagome had snapped that she was to take a bath. The servant dropped her basket and hurried ahead to inform the other servants to prepare one for her.

As she waited, Kagome leaned against a nearby persimmon tree and closed her eyes. She was so confused and disappointed. She had thought better of Sesshoumaru than to let her be humiliated in such a way. Running her hands through her hair, Kagome heaved a sigh. She was so disappointed, but it was not the sinking feeling that demanded her attention the most—it was her emotions concerning the youkai warlord.

_I will not think of him, _she told herself, gazing up into the leafy branches of the persimmon tree, _Sesshoumaru__ does not desire my attention…and as such, I should not delude myself of any of his own emotions._

Telling herself such things did not work. Kagome knew that there was only one thought she could think that would override any feelings she held toward the youkai. Only one thought where she could realize its impact.

_You are a married woman, Kagome. You are not allowed to fall in love._

No truer words were ever thought for the young girl.

The rain began to fall harder, but Kagome did not care. The kimono she wore was a present from Naraku and whether or not they became ruined was of no matter. As she waited for the servant to return she closed her eyes and wondered of her husband.

*

Naraku sipped his tea archly and watched Sesshoumaru, who was still looking toward the closed shoji screen. Outside, a light rain had begun to fall from a storm that had quickly moved in over the mountains. The day had turned gray although it had begun fine and pleasant.  Dimly Naraku thought back to his own castle nestled and hidden away in the great mountains, and as he did so, he thought of Kikyou. His precious jewel creating her own light, so there was no need for the sun in his abode. A kindly smile hinted on Naraku's lips as he thought back to his love.

Sesshoumaru's head lowered and he observed the depths of his teacup. His face was emotionless, yet his eyes gave away nearly all his secrets. Sesshoumaru was grasping at straws to remain a composed and formidable host.

Naraku coughed slightly, and continued his speech as though he had paused for a breath, "As I was saying, you decided to keep the girl. I am not surprised in the least. After all, who could resist a beauty such as her? Her breasts are quite fine as well…it is so hard to find acceptable breast nowadays.  All these scrawny villagers hardly have any, unless they are pregnant, and who would want one of them then?"

Naraku tittered to himself and poured another cup of tea.

Sesshoumaru, lifting his head, spoke sardonically, "I am relieved Naraku."

"Oh? About what?" Naraku snickered, and added, "That I have decided to approve of the wench?"

It sounded very strange that he had called Kagome a wench. Yet, as Sesshoumaru remembered, he had called her the same thing not so long ago. It was all very humbling.

"I am relieved, Naraku, that you are not very agreeable. It saves me trouble of actually liking you." Sesshoumaru smirked to himself and waited for Naraku's reaction. Usually, he would never have spoken so frankly to one such as him, but the situation required it. Naraku was being even more repulsive as usual, and Sesshoumaru wondered to himself if the dark lord was drunk.  Well, if so, at least he was a happy drunk, not an angry one. Angry ones became tiresome so quickly.

Naraku, as Sesshoumaru had expected, blinked and then chortled to himself. "She is bringing you out, that girl. You're blossoming for her. And they say romance is dead."

Sesshoumaru's features fell and he glared in anger at Naraku. Suggesting he had physical relations with the girl (however false) was one thing, but eluding that he actually cared for Kagome was another. "How dare you even imply…" Sesshoumaru snarled as he reached for his sword placed beneath his silk sash.  

_Oh my, how hard love has hit the lord.  Neither of them has yet to realize it._ Naraku sighed to himself as he reclined deeper against his armrest. Lazily, he eyed the youkai. It had been some time since he had seen him, and as usual he was looking icy cold with his attractive face. Sesshoumaru's pale looks suited Naraku, and once he claimed Sesshoumaru as his own, he would have great pleasure in discovering every nook and cranny to the powerful youkai lord. It would be most wonderful, Naraku thought idly to himself as he enjoyed the scornful look of Sesshoumaru's face. If he could have a portrait made of the two of them in bed together, what a piece of artwork that would be: Sesshoumaru's pale and cold skin with his white hair spread across his own tanned skin and dark hair. _We are like the yin and the yang, and one day, in that same position. _A smirk stretched across his face.

"I dare to imply, Sesshoumaru," Naraku continued breezily, not even put off by the fact that the beginning of the blade was starting to appear and flash in the light of the room. "You have already revealed to me that you care for her. Your underside has already been discovered. I know, Sesshoumaru. I know."

The youkai lord said nothing and sank back down into his cushion, his gaze never leaving Naraku's dark, depthless eyes.

"You think you know. But you are wrong." Sesshoumaru hissed bitterly, his lips sneering in disgust.

"Oh?" Naraku inquired, his thick and plucked eyebrows rising in amusement, "I am wrong then?"

Sesshoumaru did not reply to his question. Instead, he gazed across the room and at a wall scroll. It had been so long since he had actually looked at it. He saw it nearly everyday, but he had forgotten the particular craftsmanship when it came to the haiku and the painting of misty mountains.

"Do not deny, Sesshoumaru," Naraku began, giving the figure seated opposite him a very stern and serious look that he rarely bestowed, "That you are attracted to her. You can see it in your eyes."

Turning his attention towards Naraku, Sesshoumaru's golden orbs narrowed and clouded over with darkness, distrust, and loathing. Internally, Sesshoumaru knew that the dark lord would get his answer one way or another. This dark lord spoke so directly that it caught one off guard in the country of aversion and indirect conversation. It was rare, very rare, to find one such as Naraku. Even if the being was a demon sent from hell to destroy him, Sesshoumaru had to admit that although he loathed the man with all his heart, there was a mutual respect between them. Naraku was a man of action and cunning; when he wanted something, he did whatever he could to obtain it. The two were alike in that way. They did what was required to grasp their desire.

Yet, humans and emotions were something that the two took two separate paths on. Sesshoumaru despised humans and found that bottling one's emotions served more useful then wearing them on a sleeve like his idiotic half-brother. Naraku, although not openly telling the world what he was feeling, visibly conveyed it. Naraku's aim at the moment was to discover Sesshoumaru's true feelings towards Kagome, and whatever the method he would use it if it brought him closer to his desired answer.

"Come, come now." Naraku hissed, leaning forward, his eyes aglow, alit with a raging fire.

Avoiding his glance, Sesshoumaru heaved a sigh and spat, "Love? Hardly. Respect? Yes, I respect the girl, just as I respect you. Yet I do not like you, so you see, Naraku, respect can only get you so far."

Naraku laughed one of his rich dark laughs so characteristic of him and pointed his silver leaf fan in Sesshoumaru's direction and insisted, "You did not answer my question. Are you attracted to her? You would have to be questionable in your sexual desires if you were not. She is one of the most beautiful in the country."

Sesshoumaru, meeting Naraku's eyes yet again, smirked and replied in a mocking tone, "Then would you need my answer?"

Smirking, Naraku confided, "One cannot stand in a fire and help but be consumed. Remember this."

Draining the remnants of his teacup, Naraku chuckled as he hoisted himself up from the tatami matted floor and crawled towards Sesshoumaru's seated form, "You are a tough blade to break, but one day, I shall do it. I guarantee you."

Naraku placed the cup back onto the tray and moved closer to Sesshoumaru's form. This, no doubt, would be the last time the two would meet before the war began in less than a month. Licking his lips, Naraku pushed aside the lacquered serving dish and crawled forward even more. It was best not to waste an opportunity. Sesshoumaru's mind was probably still residing in the past conversation about Kagome and so Naraku's actions would take him by surprise and astonishment. Dimly watching Naraku's moves, Sesshoumaru stiffened slightly as the dark lord placed one hand against his knee and slowly ran it up the length of his leg. What was he planning on doing?

He leaned forward even more, placing his other hand on Sesshoumaru's waist. Naraku fixed his eyes upon his prize and quickly darted his head forward and slipped his tongue between Sesshoumaru's slightly opened lips. As he did so, he pressed his body weight against Sesshoumaru's and quickly intertwined his arms about his strong back. The kiss deepened for a split second as Naraku dug deeper, probing and searching and hoping. But it was to no avail. A moment later he was flung against the tatami mat, his legs spread about him, the point of a sword rested casually against his Adams apple.

"You sick disgusting--!" Sesshoumaru began as he wiped his mouth in revulsion, his eyes aflame with fury and humiliation.

"Pass that on to Kagome, won't you?" Naraku murmured in a deep voice as he ran a hand through his dark wavy hair and licked his lips, savoring Sesshoumaru's unique flavor.

A moment later, Naraku vanished into thin air, leaving Sesshoumaru alone in his study, his cheeks afire with shame.

*

Nearly an hour and a half had passed since Naraku has disappeared in his usual allusive and dramatic style. Yet the events and conversation still remained heavy on Sesshoumaru's conscious. Like the great storm clouds above, no relief would come unless he confronted the matter and let all spill loose. Resting his chin atop his hands, Sesshoumaru narrowed his eyes and focused on the spot where Naraku was seated for most of the conversation. As he stared dimly into space, he begrudgingly allowed his mind to wander to the words that his twisted ally had spoken.

What _was_ his relationship with Kagome? He could not deny, even to himself, that he thought her beautiful. Of all women he had seen in the course of his lifetime, perhaps Kagome was the most striking. Yet it was not because she was breathtaking (although she was)—it was her personality and lust for life that heightened and created her memorable splendor. It was her fiery personality, her will that refused to be restrained, it was all things and more that made Kagome unique and as refreshing as a summer's shower.

But past that? How far did his emotions run? Even this was a mystery to him. There was attraction to be sure, but attraction did not equal love, did it? He had felt lust for women before during his lifetime, but once his needs had been satisfied, their faces usually disappeared from his mind and he continued on with his life. To desire Kagome for her body was one thing, but to love her for her mind was another. Did he love her?

No. He did not.

Then again, his mind whispered, who are you to know what love is? You, who have lived alone, a solitary clam in a lonely ocean…. Is she prying you open?

There was a mutual respect between them now, a respect that was beginning to grow. Today, unfortunately, had caused a deep gash in this unstable balance between them and it was his duty to see that it was properly restored. Sesshoumaru did not know why he was concerned that Kagome might potentially hate him forever—but for some reason it brought a great amount of unease to his heart. It felt as though someone was wrenching at it, trying to pull it from his body.

Standing up quite suddenly, Sesshoumaru slapped the screen angrily aside and walked calmly out into the hallway and toward the pavilion. What he needed was a long walk, away from them all, away from the presence of Naraku, away from his words, away from his truth. He needed to be away from Kagome, for she, as he had to remember, was the wife of his stepbrother. No matter what his feelings towards her were concerned, he knew that they would never bear fruit, and Sesshoumaru was never one to pursue something unless it would prosper.

Stepping onto the pavilion, he gazed out at the countryside now painted in the gray wash of rain. The clouds were scattered across the great mountainside, broken and clinging to the earth.

_One cannot stand in a fire and help but be consumed._

Pausing, Sesshoumaru ran his clawed fingers along the railing and gazed out at the nearby vegetable garden and beyond that the sandy shores of Suzuran Lake. His golden eyes nearly missed Kagome's form plastered against the persimmon tree.

_When we desire solitude it only draws us together, _Sesshoumaru thought ironically as he descended the steps and made his way to Kagome hidden beneath the leafy bows. _One day, I'm sure, we will desire one another's company and it will be impossible. _

****

**Quotes:**

"I do not want people to be very agreeable, as it saves them the trouble of liking them a great deal." -Jane Austen

"One cannot stand in a fire and help but be consumed," ---from the book, "_Possession_".

**AN:** so, the plot thickens between Sesshoumaru and Kagome. I feel that I need to add some more description, especially when it comes to Kagome from Sessh's POV. He needs to notice her beauty more, I think. I mean, come on now, Kagome already knew Sesshi's a hunk but I will add the needed provocative language. Yet Sesshie…he needs to notice it more, because he is a man.  Anyway, a bet all my S/K fans are shouting from the rafters! But, I tell you, even if you are an IY/K fan, just keep on reading this story!  It is a very strange story as you have already discovered, so neither IY/K fans nor S/K fans know what is going to happen!! HA HA HA!

So, what did you think of Naraku putting the moves on our beloved golden-orbed youkai?  If I was writing a lemon I would have loved to make S and N just go at it, because they are just both so hunky. But fear not, Sesshoumaru is completely heterosexual in this story…(*cappie goes and cries because she likes shonen-ai very much*) 

Recently I have been watching an anime called "Hikaru no Go". However, it got licensed and as such I can't really download it anymore. This really sucks because I am a starving high school student who makes $67 a week and can't afford to buy 30+ dvd's with only 3-4 episodes on them.  So, if anyone previously has this series downloaded I would be more than happy to pay you the cost of CD's and shipping and handling for them.  We anime lovers must work together and try to save as much money as possible and enjoy all the lessons that HnG has to offer! 

_Continuing on, even more!_

Hopefully I won't butcher this story like I do most when it gets to the end. No, we are not at the end (hardly) but let's just say we are about ¾'s of the way through it and as such I tend to put the work into high gear and toss out really crappy and sloppy chapters.  That is sort of a problem I have, you see, because…*ahem* well, in my past stories they sort of all unravel at the ends, and the ending is too quick and the like. So, if you review or happen to IM me perchance, tell me to go slow and make this a good ending.

Okay, god, yet another long author's note. I guess I am just chatty, ne? -^_^-; gomen gomen!

Feel free to contact, IM or review (particularly the last one)

**AIM:** kantou matsuri / cappie channever on this one, but hey, I snagged the sn before anyone else could. 

**e-mail****:** cappiepost@yahoo.com


	18. return of the benevolent winds

Title: Shadows Against A Shoji Screen 

Series: Inuyasha

Genre: action/romance/drama

Keywords: Kaede, Hiroyoshi 

AN: This chapter focuses on three minor characters (one of them I made up) and is sort of a side story randomly put in.  I can't think of much to say, except the character's name, 'Bishou'.   I know, your wondering, 'what the heck is up with that name!?' It's short for bishonen which he definitely isn't...ironic, ne? 

I know, I know: this isn't a chapter everyone wants to read, but come on, just because there is no Sessh or Inuyasha dosen't mean you skip every chapter! *kicks Sessh readers* just read. It's actually pretty short. 

Chapter 18

Return of the Benevolent Winds

Outside the crickets had begun to chirp and sing the songs of the night in tune with a light breeze that was beginning to pick up from the seashore.  In the wet streets of the village, squares and patterns of light were cut out against the moist ground emanating from the nearby village inn alive with the sounds of people.  Currently, the great sliding door had been opened and two figures slowly stepped inside the vestibule crowded with sandals and shoes.   The screen door slid with a click and the sounds in recesses of the building grew dim only to be replaced by the croaks of frogs, sweet singing of the crickets, and the lonely calls of mating birds.

Slipping off their shoes caked with mud, the female glanced up at the man who was waiting for her in the hallway.  A slow, pretty smile appeared on her face and she questioned, "What are you staring at?"

The man, his eyes reflecting the candlelight, grinned and stepped closer to his love as he replied, "You are beautiful, Kaede."

Kaede flushed and took his hand for help up the step and into the wooden floored hallway.

"Oh?"  She asked comically, allowing their fingers to intertwine in their moment of privacy.  It was short lived as a waitress approached the two and greeted warmly in her country twang, "Welcome!"

Bowing respectfully the man, Hiroyoshi, replied in turn, "Thank you."

The waitress urged them forward among a maze of tables and benches filled with a mixture of travelers and villagers.  As they passed, Hiroyoshi and Kaede listened intently to the words that followed the two.

"A monk and a priestess—,"

"My, how quaint--,"

"Do you suppose they are married--?"

"Wonder what brings them these parts."

"True, it is dangerous 'round here nowadays,"

"Think they know of the war?"

"Might not, they could be from up north."

"Should someone tell them?"

"Better wait it out."

A waitress approached the group of men with their order of ramen and added, "The man is certainly handsome."

"We aren't looking at the man, miss."

The table roared with laughter as the waitress returned to the kitchen to get the _sake_ they had ordered earlier.  As she departed she stopped by the table where the priestess and priest were comfortably seated at and questioned politely, "Have you decided what you would like to order?"

The female looked up and smiled though it was evident that she was very tired from the long journey.  Replying, Kaede answered, "Yes, I would like the yaki-soba and a pot of tea between the two of us."

Nodding and memorizing the order the waitress turned to the young and handsome man and averted her eyes ever-so-slightly as she realized how good looking he was, "And you, sir?"

The man smiled as well, a soft gentle smile, yet it was also burdened with exhaustion, "I will have the chicken ramen, if you would be so kind."

Bowing deeply the waitress assured them that their order would arrive shortly.

As she departed once more, Kaede and Hiroyoshi exchanged tired glances.  Hiroyoshi was the first to speak as he fiddled absently with the chopstick holder, "You know, if Inuyasha had only listened to us, we would not have to make this journey."

Kaede resting her head on her hands nodded, but argued gently, "Come now, Hiroyoshi, did you really expect him to?"

Hiroyoshi did not answer but was instead regarding the table of men nearby.  The four or five of them were roaring with laughter caused by too much _sake.  Their volume did not disturb the two for they were very well aware that these men were farmers and nights with pleasures such as liquor was a way for them to enjoy their hum-drum life._

Kaede, studying her husband in earnest, continued on in a pressing voice, "But it is not Inuyasha that concerns me.  Eventually, he will realize the mess he got himself into.  Right now, it is the news of his wife's disappearance that is particularly shocking."

Hiroyoshi returned his eyes to his wife and nodded solemely.  His wise and calm face was like a strong pillar that she could hold onto even in the worst of storms.

"Yes, it is unexpected.  If Naraku has kidnapped Lady Kagome then it will be extremely hard to find her.  Even with our abilities, there are spells and enchantments that lie about his castle, preventing ones such as ourselves to enter."

Not replying, Kaede's eyes slipped down to the worn and scratched table.  Her lips turned downward in a frown as she traced each line with her finger.

…Inuyasha, can't you just be satisfied with life…?

A few silent minutes later their meal arrived in large steaming bowls.  Glancing up, Kaede called after the waitress as she turned to leave.  Trying to act nonchalant, she inquired in a friendly voice, "Excuse me, waitress?"

"Yes?" the young country girl inquired sweetly, her large dark eyes straying to Hiroyoshi's form, "Is the food not satisfactory?"

Hiroyoshi coughed on a noodle but said nothing.

Kaede continued, her large dark eyes gazing into the young girl's face.  Soon, this girl would know the ravishes of war, soon this innocence, her fragile innocence, would forever be lost to the fountains of blood and sorrow.

"Excuse me, but have you ever heard of a warlord named Naraku?"

The girl stiffened almost instantly and her face became placid and noncommittal like the gray shores of a frozen lake.

"N-No, I have not," she answered stiffly.  A moment later, she bowed and hurried back into the kitchen.  When their tea was served, it was by a different waitress.

Hiroyoshi glanced up at his wife, a gentle smile residing on his face, "Well, what did that prove?"

Kaede glared at her husband who always seemed to be right.  She loved the man with all her heart, yet still, it was so infuriating when his intellect won over hers.

"Now you have scared the girl and the rumors will spread."  He bit into another mouthful of noodles and chewed.

"Do you think we should push on to the next town?"  Kaede asked, ill at ease as she watched with some apprehension as their former waitress pointed to them from across the crowded room.

"No." Hiroyoshi replied firmly, reaching out across the table and taking his wife's delicate yet powerful hand in his, "We have come this far.  We have a duty to fulfill, both to Inuyasha and his wife."

Kaede blinked back tears.  She loved it when Hiroyoshi was like this—he was her strength to rest upon in her hour of need.  Kaede truly loved the man with all of her heart, with everything she had ever known.

Interrupting the reverie of Hiroyoshi, the screen door in the vestibule slid open with a snap and all faces turned curiously to see who would be the next guest to the restaurant.  When the man appeared the group of rowdy farmers shouted a welcome and beckoned him over to the table.  The thin tanned man paused and whispered to a waitress of his order then strode across the room in long even steps.  He was a handsome man in some respects.  His eyes and nose were fine, and although his lips might have been a touch pale the way in which they were arranged on his face gave the impression he was always smiling.

"Bishou!"  One of the farmers in brown garments called, "We have figured you for dead!"

Another man with curly hair nodded and sipped some of his _sake, "That was a damn foolish delivery you took today—even if your father _was_ sick."_

A teenager with a shaved hair-cut added, "Who knows what the crazy-ass demon lord will do?  He might eat you if he didn't like the products he delivered!"

Bishou said nothing but smiled a rather cat-like smile (it was inherit to his family) and settled himself down on a bench between the teenager and brown-clothed farmer.

"_Sake_?" the curly haired man asked, leaning forward eagerly and pouring Bishou a cup that sloshed only ever-so-slightly.  These men were a bit tipsy.

"I ordered another round," Bishou informed good naturedly before draining the offered cup, "But a starter can't hurt, hm?"

The group of men laughed heartily slapping one another on the back and causing a general commotion in the small and cramped inn.

The waitress, formerly Hiroyoshi's and Kaede's, appeared with a tray onto which a large chilled container was presented.

"Y'like your sake cold?" the teenager questioned, grabbing Bishou's empty cup and refilling it.

"Only on special occasions," Bishou answered gulping down the sake and breathing a sigh of relief, "Or when I been sweatin' all day."

The group chuckled and the teenager prodded, "Come on, Bishou, tell us what happened with that demon lord."

Kaede and Hiroyoshi who had only been half listening to the conversation nearly sprung out of their chairs.

"Do you think?" Kaede gasped, glancing over her shoulder at the soon-to-be intoxicated man.

Hiroyoshi's dark eyes swiveled towards the newcomer 'Bishou' and whispered, "Best to listen for a bit more before we interrogate them.  Most of the men over there are drunk, and we don' know if they are 'happy drunks' or 'angry drunks'."  

Hiroyoshi tucked a strand of his long hair behind his ears and focused on the group of rowdy men some three meters away.

"Yeah, come on, Bishou!  Tell us about that bastard Sesshoumaru!"  The curly haired man insisted, slamming his hand down on the table in a good natured manner.

Bishou sipped his sake slowly and replied after a bit, "I'll tell you one thing though, that demon has got the finest grounds in the country!  Not a twig out-a place out there!  Quiet as hell too, only thing I could hear there was the birds!"

The men nodded, but the curly haired chap didn't seem satisfied, "Who gives a rat's ass 'bout his land?  Bishou—you're holding out on us! Did yeh see him or not?"

Bishou slurped his _sake_ and chewed on a piece of chicken.  Finally, he answered, his handsome country face lighting up in pride, "Yes, I saw him.  I even talked to him!"

"What!?" The people seated at the round table burst out, "You talked to Sesshoumaru?"

Kaede leaned back into the bench, breathing a sigh of relief.  "So, it would seem that we are now in Sesshoumaru's domain; not Naraku's as we first presumed."

Hiroyoshi, his eyes still peeled to the table, nodded and whispered, "And very close to the lord's dwelling, I believe."

"This is disappointing.  Lady Kagome would most likely be held in Naraku's castle, yet we still do not know where it lies." Kaede pointed out in earnest, her eyes narrowing in apprehension and discontent.

Hiroyoshi opened his mouth to speak, but Kaede instantly silenced him by putting her finger to her lips.  Motioning towards the group behind her, she mouthed silently, "We can still get some information."

Nodding, Hiroyoshi returned to his food though his ears were pricked at attention.

"Course I spoke to him! He had to come out to inspect the food and the packages.  Supposedly, he does the same thing with m'father!"  Bishou roared indignantly, slightly put off by his comrades questions.

"Well?"  The curly haired man questioned.

"What did he say?" the shaved teenager encouraged.

"Not much, I'll give yeh that!  The bloke walked out there, looking as though he had just taken an ice cold bath—,"

The men chuckled at this comment.

"—An' he says to me, "Where is your father?" An' I asks, "How do you know who my father is? And he answers, "I am a demon.  I can smell blood.  Yours is similar to Yoshinada, and so, I must 'presume' you are his son." Bishou scowled and continued without encouragement this time.  He was finally getting into the 'story-telling' mood.  "I was sort of taken aback by that, but I didn't let on.  So, I gave him his stuff and he told me to wait while he went and got the money."

Bishou let out a long, long whistle and dropped his voice a notch, though it could still be heard perfectly well by Kaede and her husband.

"But I tell you, Sesshoumaru may be a demon lord and have nice land; but the only thing I want that he has is his girl."

The men leaned closer.

"Sesshoumaru's got a wife?"

"No, not a wife.  I don't know who she is, might be a relative."

"Why is she staying there?"

"How long has she been there?"

"Why didn't she come through town were there's that road that'll take you up to his place?"

"Maybe she did come—at night!"

"Hey, hey, we're getting side tracked.  Who cares how she got here and why she's here! Bishou, what she look like, eh?"  The teenager questioned, hanging over the table, a wide devious smile on his face.

Bishou groaned and clasped at his heart, "I haven't seen a woman more beautiful in all my years!"

"But you're only eighteen," someone pointed out.

"Let the man talk!" another barked.

Continuing on, Bishou described, "She is a real lady, I'll tell you that.  But, I've met real ladies before; but there is somethin' different 'bout her.  She's got life in her bones and she wants to live, not be all cooped up in some house like a scroll or ornament.  She was kind and everything, and even though we have obvious class differences, she treated me as an equal."

Bishou closed his eyes, a dumb smile highlighting his face.

"Well, how'd you meet her?" the farmer in brown clothes asked, pouring himself a cup of tea and sipping at it.

Looking about the group, Bishou grinned and continued, "Well, I was standin' there, waiting for old Sesshoumaru to return and all, when all of a sudden she comes rounding the corner from the gardens!  She looks at me and I look at her, but I'm too stupid to say anything, so she bows and says, 'Hello' and I bow, and say 'Hello'.  Obviously, she's waitin' for me to say something, but I'm too dumbstruck.  So, then, she walks forward, smiling a pretty smile an' says, 'Who are you?' and I say, 'I'm Bishou'.  'Are you the deliverer' she questions, so I says 'Yes, I am'.  She waits a bit, and then answers, 'I'm Gokame' or somethin' like that, I was too in love to catch it."

"What the heck kind a name is Gokame?" the teenager chortled, laughing to himself.

Seated at the table nearby, Kaede's and Hiroyoshi's eyes met.  There was a nod and the two stood up abruptly causing the benches to fall over.  Before anyone could notice, they were walking quickly towards 'Bishou' with looks of determination on their faces.

"It has to be her," Kaede whispered.

"Yes."

The group of men now turned to face them, caught rather off guard by a miko and a monk making their way towards them.  Wasting no time, Hiroyoshi barked in an unusually aggressive voice, "Sir, we are sorry to intrude but, we couldn't help listening to your conversation."

Kaede cut in and continued, "We were wondering if you could describe this girl."

Bishou blinked and recoiled slightly, "What were you doin' listenin' to my conversation, hm?"

Hiroyoshi kneeled on the ground so he was eye level to the man and replied in a gentler voice, "You see, we are looking for a courtier that might have been kidnapped.  It would make sense if it was by Lord Sesshoumaru."

"N-now we don't want any trouble," The curly haired man warned bitterly, standing up.

"We assure you, we mean no harm.  What you tell us we will repeat to no one."  Kaede whispered quietly, giving the man her 'I'm-an-innocent-priestess-please-don't-be-mean' look.

"Well," Bishou began, obviously haven taken their word, "She was good looking and curvy.  Even with her layered kimono, you could tell she was stack—,"

Hiroyoshi coughed.

"She had sort of long-hair, probably went down half way to her back.  But, what I remember most were her blue eyes, I swear, I hadn't thought that color was possible!"

The curly haired man added, "Well, supposedly, the lord Sesshoumaru has golden eyes, so, I suppose so."

Hiroyoshi and Kaede exchanged low whispers.

"Lady Kagome's blue eyes are famous.  I know not of another woman in Japan with eyes such as hers."

"It must be her then.  But why is she at Sesshoumaru's castle?"

Turning back towards the men, Kaede asked kindly, "Sir, it seems as though this is the person we were looking for.  However, might it be possible that her name was Kagome, and not Gokame?"

Bishou's face lit with recognition, "Ah! Yes, that was it!"

Hiroyoshi leaned forward and inquired, "Did she say anything else, besides her name?"

Bishou thought for a moment and replied, "Well, I mentioned to her that Obon was comin' up this weekend.  She said she would love to go and would try to see if she could make it.  I found this strange, because usually noble ladies don't participate in our festivals."

Kaede grinned.  That sounded like something the rumored Kagome would do.  She had a lust for life indeed, and even class ranks couldn't block her strong will.

"I see…"  Hiroyoshi murmured, glancing at his wife.

"What? Yeh still don't believe me!" Bishou roared, taking their silence for disbelief. "Fine, I got somethin' that'll prove it!"

For a split second, Kaede thought that the man was going to start a brawl in the middle of the inn.  But, to Kaede's, Hiroyoshi's and all the other men's disbelief, Bishou withdrew a piece of fabric from his clothing and slammed it down on the table.

"There!  That'll prove it!"  Bishou roared, glaring at Hiroyoshi who tentatively took a step forward and peered over the table.  Everyone else looked down at the cloth until the monk picked it up in his hands and studied it intently.

"What is it?"  Kaede whispered, leaning against her husband and gazing down at the piece of nearly translucent silk.

"It's…" Hiroyoshi began, tracing the stitching that had been carefully placed onto it.  The stitches themselves formed an open cherry blossom in varying shades of red, white and blank trimmed with silver silk thread.  In the corner was a few written pieces of kanji.

"It is a piece of embroidery by Kagome.  See, look here.  She embroidered her name in the silk."  Hiroyshi whispered, stroking the fine fabric and threads in his hands with a look of wonderment.

"It hast to be hers, no commoner could afford such a fine quality of silk and thread," Kaede whispered, glancing up at Bishou who pretended not to hear her last comment and was looking at the two in mild anger and pride.

"Well?" he grunted, folding his arms.

"But why would she give it to you?" Kaede whispered to herself.

Bishou needed no urging and explained, "Well, I was waitin' for Sesshoumaru and all, and we got to talking.  Then, when she heard Sesshoumaru commin' she gave it to me and said she had enjoyed our conversation very much."

Returning the fabric to Bishou, Hiroyoshi nodded and excused himself with his wife saying that they had much to discuss with this recent information.  The two paid for their food and walked out into the star filled night and into the quiet and deserted streets.

"Well, what do you make of all this?" Hiroyoshi questioned, leaning against a camphor tree.

"It seems to me that Kagome is perfectly fine, but obviously she wants to make her presence known to the outside world.  That is probably what that present was for.  She knew Bishou would talk and the word would spread.  No one may do anything about it, but still, she wants people to know where she is."  Kaede spoke quickly, her eyes narrowed in the starlight.  "There has to be the reason…"

Hiroyoshi squatted down and began to trace a map of the mountain ranges.  "Could we risk trying to infiltrate Sesshoumaru's quarters?"  

Kaede shook her head, a slight grin appearing on her lips, "No, he is much too powerful.  We need not bother to try and rescue Kagome anyways.  I have a feeling that we will be seeing her shortly."

Hiroyoshi looked up at his wife, a look of puzzlement on his features, "Why?  What do you mean?  Do you think she will be able to convince Sesshoumaru to take her to Obon?"

Kaede laughed and replied, "If it is one thing I have heard about Kagome, it is her persistence.  I'm sure we will be seeing her this weekend under the golden light of the lanterns.  Then, we may tell her of the past and her future."

Hiroyoshi nodded and stood up.  A moment later they were in each others arms as he whispered playfully into her ear, "I love it when you are cunning…"

********

_Obon__: the Bon Festival celebrated on July 15—August 15 depending on the areas of __Japan__. According to popular Buddhist belief, ancestral spirits return to their families during the festival. Religious services are held at all temples and families pray in front of the home altar and family grave, offering incense and small sweets. Many lanterns are lit to guide the spirits in their journeys home, and so the Bon Festival is also called the Feast of Lanterns. During this festival, people throughout __Japan__ perform Bon folk dances in the evening to comfort and entertain their ancestors. After the Bon season is over, the spirits are said to return to heaven._

AN: So, yeah, a little side chapter focusing on some minor characters. I think this chapter goes by pretty fast and is just wrapping up some spare ends, if you know what I mean. ^_~ The next chapter that is coming up is probably my favorite because it is a good chapter with a lot of my personal philosophy. So, you guys get to read about it! It's also…I dun know…just good and sweet and sad and beautiful and everything! And it is a chapter where Sesshoumaru and Kagome interact, for all of you who read it only if it has S/K…*sigh*  but you know, I'm still not telling you the pairing. So HAH!

Read, review, say 'bleu'!

cappiepost@yahoo.com

AIM: kantou matsuri/ cappiechan 


	19. chrysanthemums and zinnias

Title: Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

Series: Inuyasha

Genre: romance/action/drama

Keywords: Kagome, Sesshoumaru

AN:  This chapter is entirely S/K though depending how far I get I might throw in some Hiroyoshi and Kaede.  We'll see though.  This chapter is just a 'getting to know you, getting to know more about you, getting to like you, getting to hope you like me too' sort of chapter.  Uhm…other than that, not much you need to know except Obon will be mentioned.  Remember, Obon is a Japanese festival where you dance all night.  You can get a more detailed description at the end. [not much more detailed, though] 

Warning: some WAFF in this chapter as well as possible OOCness on Sesshie's part. I tried to the best of my ability to make it work, but some people might not agree.

Chapter 19

Chrysanthemums and Zinnias

Most days Sesshoumaru, the lord of the western lands, was found inside his extensive study which doubled as his private office.  Today was no exception.  He sat behind his polished desk writing out many proclamations and answers to long overdue requests.  The following weeks before the war would be the most hectic and busy for the lord, so it was not uncommon to find him dining in his room and working late into the night.

His servants wondered what could be the reason for their lord's diligent study.  In past years he was never so bent on achieving a goal, he had never been so isolated.  In fact, Sesshoumaru was known to practice his swordsmanship on the day the war broke out and much of the week before.

The hired help could only believe that their lord's behavior was affected by one thing; Lady Kagome.

It seemed that their lord did not want to be troubled by her, or perhaps he did not consider Kagome trouble, but perhaps he found himself becoming overly sidetracked in her company.  Whatever the reason, for the past week Sesshoumaru had hardly come out of his study except to take occasional meals and retire to his bedroom.  

At first the servants were worried, but gradually they gave in and allowed their obstinate lord to do as he pleased.  He was, their master after all.

Yet, no matter what Sesshoumaru did, the servants couldn't help but notice the toll his absence was taking on Lady Kagome.  In the beginning the two had not spent much time together, and it seemed that this suited the both of them just fine.  Yet, slowly time began to soften each of their edges like waves against the shore.  Soon the two of them were found dining together and occasionally sitting in the same room.  Although hardly anything would be said between the two it was not conversation that was desired; it was company.  Both were lonely.

Yet on that day Naraku had come, everything had crumbled.  Their unsteady bridge had been set aflame and slowly begun to collapse.  At first, attempts on both sides were made to fix the damage, yet…it came to no end and soon they found themselves alone once more.  Dining together was rare and their paths crossing along the corridors even more infrequent.

Kagome, unlike Sesshoumaru, had no war to plan, no armies to form, no proclamations to decree, no alliances to uphold.  Her life was a simpler one consisting of keeping herself amused throughout the day.  Without her realizing it, Kagome's life had fallen into a pattern.  It was the last thing she had wished for, she was becoming domesticated.

With the sun Kagome would arise and take a light breakfast in the pagoda on the edges of Suzuran Lake.  By the time nine o'clock had come around she would take a daily walk around the entire circumference of the lake, taking perhaps two hours.  With the heat of the midday sun she would retire into the house and work on an extensive embroidery project.  The picture that she stitched was that of the flowers blooming Sesshoumaru's well-kept garden.  For two hours or so she would work diligently hoping to catch as much view of the blossoms as she could before time would change their appearance.  At two in the afternoon she would eat lunch alone in the dining room and gaze out at the clouds sailing by or gathering overhead depending on the day.  She would then take a light nap before returning refreshed to practice tunes on the koto and shamisen.  An hour was devoted to each instrument and for those two hours the sad sweet songs floated about the house.  Even Sesshoumaru took notice and often raised his head to listen.  At times an emotion would fill his eyes; an emotion like that of loss and regret, yet he would do nothing except turn back to his work and continue.

After her musical practice she would then attend to her many bonsai that were lined up in a small secluded structure located on the most eastern portion of the property surrounded by a tall bamboo fence.  There were many kinds of bonsai that she took care of; pine, flowering cherry and plum, maple, cypress, fig and even a persimmon.  At times the servants would often hear her crying from her private domain but would do nothing. Lady Kagome wished for privacy in a world where there was hardly any. 

With the falling of night Kagome would often compose haiku or short stories, yet most often she would practice the bamboo flute, an instrument that was usually reserved for men.

And thus, her days had fallen into a pattern.  Although from time to time things would change, she essentially found herself mechanically turning from one task to another.

One day however she had returned from her walk later than planned after taking a winding path that led her to a great vista overlooking the mountain landscape.  Hungrily Kagome had looked down at the sharp rocks below and wondered if she should jump.  It seemed so appealing than to conform to the expectations of her class.  Suddenly, as she looked down at the glistening stones still wet with rain, a great wind had swept down the slope and she had been hurtled forward by its force.  A benevolent wind?  Kagome wondered as she found herself nearly falling off the edge and towards her death.  Yet as she hung their, suspended between life and death Kagome knew that she had yet to find things to live for, a person to live for, she had yet to be stamped to the ground…she was something that no one could ever tame…and she would not die in such an dishonorable and pathetic fashion.  As she crawled back to safety, the scornful face of Sesshoumaru seemed to appear in front of her.  If she had died, would he have been stricken by grief or happiness?

Why did his good opinion matter so much?

Upon returning to the house Kagome found herself both physically and mentally exhausted after the fear of the afternoon.  Walking through the gardens towards her room she was shocked to see a young man standing at the front entryway.  Although weary, Kagome felt a bit of hope well up in her breast as she made her way forward.  The man (it seemed his name was 'Bishou') was waiting to be paid by Sesshoumaru for the groceries he had delivered.  The two had talked for a moment of the upcoming Obon festival and Kagome had offered him a small sample piece of embroidery she had been working on in thanks of the information.  Bishou had insisted he could not accept the gift, yet Kagome had forced it upon the confused man as she heard the soft steps of Sesshoumaru approach.  Wishing him a goodbye she returned to the path and through the winding garden hoping that the foliage would prevent her from being spotted. Hurrying towards her room she glanced over her shoulder and saw that Sesshoumaru was watching her through the trees as she made her way through the grounds.  His golden eyes quickly fell away and back towards the humble peasant.  When Kagome glanced over her shoulders again, both Sesshoumaru and Bishou were gone.  Sliding open the screens to her room she gratefully sunk onto her futon and fell asleep quite swiftly.

*

The golden light of the afternoon shone through the screens in Kagome's room when she awoke.  Rubbing her eyes she looked about her room and found her lunch on a serving dish nearby.  On the lacquered tray with insets of mother-of-pearl was also a piece of rice-paper tucked beneath the cooled bowl of miso soup.  Adjusting her silk kimono, which had come slightly undone during her slumber, Kagome looked down at the letter in some trepidation.  

_It is from Sesshoumaru…_she thought softly to herself, uneasy and fearful.  It was not as though she hated Sesshoumaru, no far from it…yet…something had happened on the day Naraku had come to visit.  Something had caused a rift between them, something dark and uncomfortable that neither had the courage to speak of.  No, perhaps it was not courage that was needed for the task, but faith and trust…

Picking up the note she carefully unfolded its thick edges and read the contents slowly so as to stop the pace of her heart from beating any faster.

_When you awake, come to my study._

How did he know she had been sleeping?  Had he come into her room?  

Her heart began to beat more rapidly and her face turned red.  Kagome shook her head furiously and insisted that he must have asked a servant about her condition… Sesshoumaru would not be so bold as to enter a lady's room, especially when she was unconscious!

Yet still, even though her head was convinced, her heart was not…

*

Why was it, Sesshoumaru thought idly as he leaned against the railing to his elevated deck, that Kagome would talk to a lowly peasant like the son of a farmer?  Why was it, he continued, that Kagome would give him something of her own?  Had she forgotten that his sense of smell was extraordinary and he could detect that the farmer carried something of hers?

Was it possible that the two knew each other?

But then, quite suddenly, he issued: Why am I concerned about Kagome?  Why do I even care?

Even he could not answer this question. 

*

Stepping slowly along the veranda Kagome looked out at the garden bathed in the startling light of deep afternoon.  The chrysanthemums and the zinnias seemed to stand out most noticeably with their strong and bold colors.  As she studied their remarkable palate, Kagome was suddenly temped to pick a few, and reasoning that Sesshoumaru had yet to realize she was awake, she made a detour to the kitchen where she found a basket and returned to the garden with a pair of clippers in her delicate hands.  Kneeling down she regarded the two flowers.  They were very alike in various ways, but also very singular in countless ways.  The overall form of the flowers was similar; the way they both exploded from the center like midsummer fireworks.  Yet, other than that common design of the bloom itself, everything was different; the leaves and the stems for example.

Plucking a good amount of each type as well as some feathery fern type leaves, she found a shallow basin and needlepoint holder in which she could arrange the stems.

Hurrying now to Sesshoumaru's quarters (for the sun was setting quickly and she wanted to have a good amount of light while she arranged them) she kneeled and quietly called out, the nervous feeling suddenly returning, "Sesshoumaru, are you there?"

Even though it was but a few seconds, it felt painfully long as the pressure began to build up inside her.  Yet, she remembered, Sesshoumaru took pleasure in noticing other people's weak points; she had to remain calm and collected.

"Yes.  Come in."  

Sliding open the screen Kagome entered softly and made her way to her once familiar spot in front of the desk.  Placing the basket and basin on the tatami covered floor she bowed graciously but said nothing.

Looking up she found that Sesshoumaru was eyeing her with a look of utter bewilderment.

"What are those for?" he questioned, motioning in the general direction to where the basin and flowers were set.

Adjusting her feet slightly, Kagome answered softly, "I thought a flower arrangement would look nice in this room."

Sesshoumaru said nothing but instead stared at Kagome for a long moment before coughing slightly, "I see."

Taking his non-committal response as a 'yes', Kagome began to trim the ends of a flower in a diagonal cut.  She could still feel Sesshoumaru's eyes on her though she pretended not to notice.

Since his childhood he had not seen a woman arrange flowers.  His mother used to do so and he would enjoy watching her as she carefully placed each stem and leaf.  When his mother had died however, the act of watching the arrangement had also died. Sesshoumaru had seen many finished products to be sure, but he could not remember a single time since his early childhood when he would actually watch a woman trim each flower and select the best and most prime specimens.  It was for this reason, he told himself, and nothing more that he watched her now so closely.

 Lies, all lies.

The cutting was finished and the flowers lay scattered in the basket.  Picking up a particularly brilliant golden hued chrysanthemum she whispered, "It is such a pity that chrysanthemums are flowers of the dead.  They are indeed quite spectacular…"

A few of the petals were stained in a deep red, the color of wine or fresh blood.  This gave the flower the look of something very classic; the imperfect yet perfect flower found in some scroll by a master.  Studying the blossom, but more so Kagome, Sesshoumaru did not say anything.

Placing the flower back into the basket, she then picked up a zinnia that was a bright nearly fluorescent red with a gold and white middle.  Continuing, she added, "But in truth, I prefer the zinnias to the chrysanthemums."

Put off by her comment, Sesshoumaru asked mockingly, "Why is it that you praise chrysanthemums then give your heart to zinnias?"

Kagome glanced up at Sesshoumaru.  She had not really expected him to say anything.  Yet as she gazed at him a smile appeared and she answered, "I do not give my heart to flowers, Sesshoumaru."

A wry smirk appeared on Sesshoumaru's lips and he groaned in amusement and irritation, "Of course not, Kagome.  Let me rephrase: why do you praise chrysanthemums then in the end favor zinnias?  To me, it makes no sense whatsoever."

Kagome thought for a long moment and advised, "It is a very long explanation.  Do you think you could spare the time?  After all, recently you have been so busy with your work."

Sesshoumaru's smirk had yet to fade and he replied coolly, "Yes, I believe I can spare the time."

Kagome laughed to herself and placed the zinnia carefully in the needled holder and bent it slightly so that it was at an angle.  The bottom sides of the leaves were not supposed to show.

"Well, you see," Kagome began primly, "A chrysanthemum may be more beautiful than a zinnia by all means.  Yet the most spectacular of chrysanthemums, however well grown and cherished, will wilt more quickly than the most poorly cared for zinnia."

Sesshoumaru thought about this for a second and then questioned, rather amused at himself that he, Sesshoumaru, the lord of the western lands, was talking about flowers, replied, "So you like zinnias because they are hearty?  You like them because they can survive?"

Nodding, Kagome continued, "Yes, they can survive even more so than a chrysanthemum.  Their outward appearance is pretty yet it does not compare to a chrysanthemum with its delicate beauty.  Essentially, the more beautiful a thing is, the quicker it dies.  Why love something that will disappear quickly?"

Sesshoumaru leaned back and scratched his cheek, "Yes, I suppose so.  One must choose one's battles and alliances."

Kagome smiled at Sesshoumaru and wide beam and uttered, "I think, however, that in regards to you and Inuyasha," (Sesshoumaru stiffened at this remark) "It is the opposite."

Blinking, Sesshoumaru leaned forward and questioned in a serious tone, "Are you saying that you believe me weak?"  His voice was low and dangerous, yet Kagome still remained cool and composed.

"No, I do not think either of you are weak.  At all.  You two are equal I believe."  

Sesshoumaru, rather put off by this but willing her to continue questioned, "Equal?  I?  With Inuyasha?"

"I suppose you two are different in different ways.  By yourself Sesshoumaru, you are very powerful indeed, so powerful and dangerous that this makes it virtually impossible for you to make alliances.  Am I correct in my assumption?"

Sesshoumaru said nothing, yet his eyes were averted.

"You are indeed very powerful and that is why you jumped at the opportunity to be in an alliance with Naraku, even though normally I doubt you would even associate with one so rude as him."

Sesshoumaru looked up at Kagome.  He knew what she was trying to convey.  Kagome had known all along of his character and she had forgiven him for Naraku's rudeness. Perhaps, Sesshoumaru thought darkly, he had not forgiven himself.

"About Naraku," Sesshoumaru began.  Yet, he could find no words.

Kagome smiled and whispered, "It is understood."

The two were quiet for a moment and outside the sound of a dove's wings echoed through the quiet mountaintop.

Sesshoumaru, feeling uncomfortable, urged Kagome, "Yet, if I am so powerful how can it be that Inuyasha is equal to one such as I?  By the way you explain it, it seems quite impossible."

Kagome laughed agreeably, "You certainly do have pride in yourself."

"Even a beggar can have pride." He replied darkly.

"Inuyasha is equal to you because he does not have the strength that you possess.  He is still so immature and this is what the lords find appealing.  They see the potential in Inuyasha, but they are wary of all the defeats he has been blown."

Well deserved defeats. 

Continuing, Kagome picked up the golden chrysanthemum again and placed it beside the zinnia in the basin, "It is the opposite for you two, the roles of the chrysanthemum and the zinnia have been replaced.  You have the strength of the zinnia though the physical appearance of the chrysanthemum."

"Are you saying I look like a flower?"

"No, not at all!" Kagome laughed sweetly, "I merely point out that although you and Inuyasha bear many resemblances, it is Inuyasha who has the more rough and sturdy look to him."

"And so, I look weak?"  Sesshoumaru humored good-naturedly.

"You know what I mean," Kagome pointed out wisely, "Inuyasha has the appearance of strength though he possesses very little.  His strength is probably a persona of his hotheaded temper.  People who look for strength will see Inuyasha and presume he has it.  Henceforth, because he has so many followers, he is equal to you who have few."

Sesshoumaru looked at her in amusement, "And is this what you think about all day?  The life of chrysanthemums and zinnias and their psychology?"

Kagome laughed but gave no reply.

The flower arrangement was finished ten minutes later and Kagome began to stand to leave, yet she promptly sat down and questioned, "Before I go…was there a reason that you wished me to come?"

Sesshoumaru glanced up from his paperwork and fumbled, "Oh, yes there was."

He had nearly forgotten.

"Why did you talk to the delivery man?  Do you know him?"

Kagome flushed, and looked down at her knees, "No, I do not.  I just wanted to talk to somebody."

Slightly embarrassed, Sesshoumaru continued, "Then why did you give him something of yours?"

Looking up in alarm, her dark blue eyes glistening, Kagome gasped, "But how did you know?"

Sesshoumaru stood up and walked around his table and sat down silently beside Kagome.  Taking a piece of her long hair he brought it to his nose and slowly inhaled.  Looking at her, he replied seriously, "I know your scent Kagome.  There is not much you can hide from me."

Kagome did not move, she sat stiffly looking straight ahead of her, her cheeks aflame with color.  Sesshoumaru still had Kagome's dark lustrous hair resting in the palm of his hand.

"Tell me why you gave him something of yours."  It was not a question, but a demand.

Closing her eyes, Kagome whispered, "I wanted someone to know I was here.  I wanted anyone, even a farmer to know I was here."

Dropping her hair, Sesshoumaru replied, "I know you are here.  What more is there?"

Her eyes still closed, Kagome could feel Sesshoumaru's presence about her now though he sat a foot away.

"There is nothing more, I suppose…," Kagome said softly, opening her eyes and looking at one of Sesshoumaru's hands that rested in his lap.  "There is nothing more…"

"Then why?"  His voice was raising in anger and frustration now, a deep pulsating rhythm evident in its undertones.

The anger echoed through the quiet room and seemed to grow more powerful in each passing second.

"…If the word spread that I was here…living with you, then perhaps somebody would come and find me. Somebody would come and take me away."  The words were spoken hastily, as though she could not sustain such truth for long.

"Is that it? Do you want to leave?"  Sesshoumaru's voice was now unemotional, cold and cruel like his killing blade—yet, a quiet sorrow and disappointment was issued as well.

"No, I do not wish to go…yet I am married, Sesshoumaru.  If it is known that I spend time with you alone, my husband has the right to kill me.  It is the law of humans."  Her voice was deep with emotion and sorrow, "Don't you understand?  I do not want you or I to pay such a heavy price for...." It remained unfinished, what she wished to say. Her voice was profound and thick with emotion and it seemed as though she was about to cry.  Yet, she remained strong and willful and even gained enough courage to tilt her head and look up at Sesshoumaru.

His eyes were deep and tumultuous, almost gray in color…

A deep long sigh issued from Sesshoumaru and he leaned against the table and answered, "Yes, I do understand.  I understand that humans and hanyou alike are foolish.  Your husband has thrown you away to the wrong person…"

_Love is spring blossoms_

_Fragile, Charming, Innocent_

_Crepe-paper hope_

The two were quiet, their minds full of questions.  Yet, after a minute Kagome could stand it no longer and quietly gathered the basket and scissors.  As she neared the door, she turned and gazed sadly at Sesshoumaru's figure leaning against his desk, his long silver hair cascading over his shoulders. 

"Sesshoumaru?" Kagome questioned, leaning against the doorframe, her graceful hands resting against the patterned wood.

He looked up and gave Kagome his attention.  

"This weekend is the Obon festival in the local village." she began hesitantly, her eyes averted, fearing disappointment.

"Yes?"  Sesshoumaru asked, his voice suddenly very tired and ragged, "What of it?"

"May I go?"

"Why?"

Smiling softly, Kagome whispered blinking down at the tatami mats, "To find happiness."

Sesshoumaru gave her a long searching look, and finally, he answered, "Yes, you may go."

His voice turned hard and bitter, "Now leave me, I have much work to finish."

"Yes, Sesshoumaru…" she replied softly turning to leave.

"Kagome?" he called.

"Yes?"

"Everything will be the same."  It was neither a question, no a statement; perhaps just a false reassurance.

The shoji screen slowly slid shut. 

Then again, perhaps it wouldn't.  Each had walked too far down a path of no return.

****

***

**

*

To find out what these flowers look like, go to…

etfassociation.org/

and search under their respective names

(btw, this computer is being stupid and wont let me display WebPages for some reason!! I'M SORRY!!)

_koto_:  a Japanese zither.  Japan's most popular traditional musical instrument practiced widely, especially among women even today.  It is made of wood about 180 cm in length and over 30 cm in width.  It usually has 13 strings, each stretching over bridges, which are plucked with small plectrums attached to the thumb and two fore-fingers of the right hand.__

_Shamisen__ [samisen]:  a traditional Japanese banjo like musical instrument with 3 strings. The body is covered with cat skin.  The samisen is played with a triangular ivory plectrum (bachi) by clucking the three strings, the heavier string giving a deeper tone than the lighter one.  It is used for music accompany Bunraku and Kabuki as well as other narrative kinds of folk music. _

_Obon__:  the Bon Festival celebrated on July 15—August 15 depending on the areas of __Japan__.  According to popular Buddhist belief, ancestral spirits return to their families during the festival.  Religious services are held at all temples and families pray in front of the home altar and family grave, offering incense and small sweets.  Many lanterns are lit to guide the spirits in their journeys home, and so the Bon Festival is also called the Feast of Lanterns.  During this festival, people throughout __Japan__ perform Bon folk dances in the evening to comfort and entertain their ancestors.  After the Bon season is over, the spirits are said to return to heaven._

Cappie note:  when I went to Obon, the priest said that this festival is the celebration of happiness as well, hence forth, that's why Kagome means when she says "to find happiness" at the end of the chapter.

Taken from "A Cultural Dictionary of Japan" by the Japan Times.

AN:  A rather short chapter, as far as my chapters go. ^_^; yes, this one is a lovely little waffy chapter between S/K. Anyways, expect even more in the next chapter!  Woo hoo! And, of course, the return of Kaede and her hunky husband Hiroyoshi.  I sort of picture him looking like a not-so-round-faced version of Tenchi's young grandfather…uhm, what was his name?  I forget, I haven't seen the series in a LONG time…;;;  Anyways, yeah, lets think if I can think of other guys he looks like…Perhaps an older Clow from CCS? …gah, that's about it.  Anyways, hope you enjoyed this chapter and tell me what you think?  What did you guys think of the whole 'flower psychology'?  I came up with it all on my own! ^-^; yep yep!

cappiepost@yahoo.com

read, review, say Haiku! ^__________________________^;


	20. the thread that unravels

Title: Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

Series: Inuyasha

Chapter 20

Genre: romance/action/adventure/drama

Chapter keywords: Inuyasha/Kikyou/Naraku

AN:  Originally, this chapter was going to be a Sessh/Kagome chapter dealing with the Obon festival; however I felt that this would also be a good place in which to add some more detail with Kikyou in particular.  As much as I hate the wench, I can't help but respect her.  Her presence gives the story an edge and although I find her annoying, they say it is good to know one's enemies.

Warnings:  No explicit sex or anything, but there will be innuendo and references.  Trust me, I am too embarrassed to write anything explicit.  I am not yet at that point in my 'career' dare I call it? But I can't really do it ANYWAYS because of the stupid lemon thingy.

Chapter 20

The Thread that Unravels

Inuyasha squeezed his arms tighter around Kikyou's bare waist and let his head fall into her luxurious hair that cascaded off her shoulders and down onto the futon.  His eyes were shut and he looked almost peaceful and content nestled there, the two of them bare, huddled beneath the sheets.  Yet Inuyasha was far from content and far from peaceful.  His thoughts, which for some time now had been directed on revenge towards his brother, suddenly had no purpose.  He had Kikyou, didn't he?  Would he risk his own life and be tortured in an afterlife without her presence if he should fail?

But more so than Kikyou, it was his wife he could not forget.  It was not as though he loved her; yet there was a respect that he would admit to.  There was attraction, at least on his part; but as long as Kikyou remained by his side, he was only satisfied with her.  To him, Kikyou was a beautiful star shining down on him—and comparatively none should shine so bright as she.  Kagome, wherever she was, would find happiness one way or another.  As little as he knew of his new bride, not even a year's anniversary into their marriage, he knew she was a survivor.  She would take any means and any route possible; she was a daughter of the revolution and would carry on. 

Yet, even though he told himself to forget his wife, even though he held Kikyou in his arms, even though he was surrounded in happiness; his thoughts of her would not stop.  Kagome could not be forgotten.

As Inuyasha's thoughts began to grow scattered and muddled, he dug his face deeper into Kikyou's skin that smelled of incense and their love.  His breathing grew heavy and rhythmic, and before the twilight star shone, Inuyasha had fallen asleep only to dream of thoughts he wished to escape.

Kikyou, on the other hand, was far from drowsy.  Instead her eyes were bright and aware in the fading light of the room.  Although her body was relaxed and gave the appearance of satisfaction, she was tense and anxious; for troubling thoughts were beginning to clutch her soul.  These thoughts would not fade or die; they were endless like the lapse of time.

When she was sure that Inuyasha was deeply asleep, she untangled herself from his limbs and slid down onto the tatami mats.  Gazing down at the hanyou, she thought of how innocent and peaceful he looked at this moment.  There was no trace that he was a killer, a murderer.  There was no trace in his countenance that he had supposedly murdered her.

Kikyou, who sat in the nude, looked down at the hanyou before her.  The emotions that she felt towards him were so unsure—she had to force herself not to like him.  She had to force herself to remember that this man had killed her.  She had to force so many things…

But more so then these disturbing thoughts of doubt was the realization that perhaps things were not as they seemed when it came to Naraku. 

Pulling at a piece of her dark hair, she silently called out for the souls that she so desperately needed.  Tonight had been particularly physically exhausting.  Inuyasha was beginning to crave more and more as he realized that she, Kikyou, was no dream.  She _had _returned to life, and although Inuyasha had first reacted cautiously towards her sudden appearance in all regards, perhaps the snow of his soul was beginning to melt.  Perhaps the crocuses of their love would bloom…

But, Kikyou questioned as the souls of the departed beings entered her body, was there love between them?  Could she, a holy priestess, love a man with her blood splattered against his past?

She stood up, slipping on a yukata, her movements' fluid as water as she made her way to the veranda that overlooked the courtyard.  Leaning against the wooden beams, her dark and depthless eyes scanned the horizon for a sign.  It was now nearly dusk, the remnants of the day being quickly spirited away to another realm.  Yet still, the midday heat remained, the song of the mockingbird had yet to die in the cool ocean breeze.

The wind rustled her long hair, and Kikyou closed her eyes blocking out the world.  She had to come to decision at this moment.  A dangerous decision that could destroy not only her life, but Inuyasha's as well…

However, Kikyou knew that to find peace within her reincarnated soul, she had to find what was perhaps the most difficult: the truth among the potential ruins of war.

She had to know of her past that always seemed so foggy and conflicting.  Kikyou had to know how she died, she had to know who killed her; for their sake as well as her own.  She was a priestess, Kikyou told herself, and those who had tainted, killed and destroyed innocent lives deserved not to live.

Looking out onto the desolate moon, now waxing to the full, Kikyou knew there was but one path for her reclaimed destiny, only one path to follow; that which led to the truth…

Walking out onto the veranda, now clothed in a deep indigo yukata, her footsteps light yet full of depth, she made her way through the familiar mazes of screens and painted panels until she arrived outside Naraku's bedchamber.  Kikyou knew well that Naraku would be inside its folding walls, waiting for her to come to his side, waiting for the pleasure and the pain that was always so memorable in their visits.  She paused and knelt her head as she looked down at her shaking hands.  If what she supposed was right, then she would be doing the most terrible thing possible to imagine; she would shame her name and destroy and twist the honorable relations of lord and servant.  Yet, Kikyou reasoned desperately, she had to know the truth…she had to know, whether or not it cost her life.  She had already died once, and so, what fear was there?

Opening the shoji screens, Kikyou looked into the dark recesses of Naraku's bed chamber, lit only with one oil-lamp in the far left-hand corner.  Opposite the flame sat Naraku, an undone forest colored cloak spread about him which was parted down the middle revealing his bare body that flicked with the movements of the undulating flame.  His eyes gleamed in the darkness and seemed to take on a life of their own, glistening and glowing like wet stones in the moonlight.  His mouth, pouty and full was now formed in a masculine smirk as he motioned for her to enter.

"You are early tonight, Kikyou," he whispered darkly as he adjusted his seating position so as to accompany her petite frame better.

"Yes," Kikyou sighed as she began to undue her heavily yukata mechanically.  She felt like a woman of the pleasure quarters when it came to Naraku, day in and day out, it was all that was demanded of her.  Yet, with Inuyasha, so many things were different—he did not treat her as an item to be used and then disposed of; he gave her the attention of a treasure, never bruising her skin, never treating her wrongly; no, perhaps to Inuyasha she was something that could transcend the materialism that was so bound to her sex.

Kneeling down on the ground, once again bare and gleaming in the weak moonlight of the waxing lantern high above, she ran her hands along Naraku's jaw line.  She could hear his breath begin to quicken, and her heart as well.  Although Naraku treated her like an object, perhaps it was his brutality that made her aware of life.

Movements quickened in the hushed room.

Breathing a shuddering sigh, she felt Naraku wrap his moist arms around her and whisper into her ear, "You are mine, Kikyou…you are what I have been searching for.  For you, I brave the darkness of humiliation, deceit and the rules of the underworld.  For you, Kikyou…for you…"

His grip loosened about her waist, and looking up into his handsome face, Kikyou could not help but feel pity.  There was motivation behind this demon, there was more torture and hopelessness, loss, fears and regret than she could ever imagine.  Oh, Naraku could play the Noh of happiness, he could deceive women and men alike like a fox—but only to her could she see what he really was.  A tortured man searching for happiness; happiness he had yet to achieve.

He was nearly asleep now, having been exhausted by their love, yet he remained somewhat conscious so as to reply dimly to questions—questions that upon his awake would be but distant memories.

"Naraku…," Kikyou breathed, wrapping her body around his own, "Tell me…" she whispered, "Tell me how I died…"

The wait was long, but slowly, Naraku moved his lips and whispered in a voice drugged with sleep, "Inu…yasha…he…did….it."

"But why?"  Kikyou continued, refusing to believe that Inuyasha could do such a thing.  It was with love that Inuyasha had embraced her; not hate.

"To gain…_her…_"

Slumber was rapidly conquering Naraku's body, so her last and final attack had to be swift and painless, "Who is she?"

"She…is…"

And then he was gone.

Silently, she slipped out of his room and returned once again to the welcoming arms of Inuyasha, still not accepting the legitimacy.  The truth could only be found in Inuyasha's word. 

*

Inuyasha awoke past midnight and he was relieved to find Kikyou still curled up within his embrace.  More often then not, he would awakeat times such as these and find his arms empty and cold.  He would awaken, later on, towards the hours of dawn, and then find her once again beside him.  At first he had thought it all a dream—but slowly the mystery began to unravel within his soul.  Tonight, however, she was here, by his side; and that was all he needed.  There was no yesterday, there was no tomorrow; with Kikyou, there was only here and now.

She stirred slightly and opened her eyes.  A pale wash of pink flushed across her cheeks as she whispered, "Did I wake you?"

Inuyasha shook his head and instead ran his hand along her face, his eyes glazed over with relief and jubilation, "No, Kikyou, you did not awake me…"

Kikyou leaned closer towards his body and held it tightly, burying her face within his bare chest, "Inuyasha?" she whispered, her voice muted and muffled.  

His ears perked up, and gazing down at the top of her head, he questioned gently, a kind smile washing over his face in the starlight, "Yes, Kikyou?  What is it?"

Kikyou held onto him tighter, as though she was overboard in the tossing seas—and Inuyasha was her rock of salvation against the hungry sharks of the world.

Her voice was full of emotion and outside a night owl hooted in the dim, "Inuyasha.  Tell me how I died."

His breath intake was quite sudden and his form went stiff.  His grip on her tightened and he held on fast against her, burying his head into her raven-colored hair, "Why do you wish to know, Kikyou?"

"I-I cannot remember," she admitted truthfully, pulling away from his tight embrace so that she could look deeply into his golden eyes, now dilated due from the lack of light.

"Do you really wish to know?"  Inuyasha asked seriously, cupping her head in his hands and leaning his forehead against her brow, "Don't you want to forget?  This is a new life now, Kikyou; yesterday is dead…only tomorrow remains."

How was it that at times such as these he could sound so wise?  While at other intervals, he was but a child…?

Kikyou bit back tears but insisted, "I wish to know of my history so I may not repeat the mistakes of the past."

Inuyasha held her close once again and spat out, his voice laced heavily with emotion and sorrow, "It was not your fault."

Kikyou's grip, which had once been tight and strained on his body now loosened, and she admitted, "I know.  But…but I wish to know why anyways.  You do not have to tell me how it happened…I just wish to know; Inuyasha, tell me…who is my murderer?"

Inuyasha's response was delayed like the heat of summer.  Finally, he replied, his voice serious, grave and full of hatred, "My half-brother; Sesshoumaru."

Kikyou closed her eyes and began to cry.  Holding tight to Inuyasha she prayed that come the sun tomorrow such talk would have been forgotten in his sleep, but she knew it was not the case.  With tomorrow's sun would come a reborn Kikyou, one aware of the truth, one aware that the lies of Naraku were beginning to become unraveled like an old and worn string.  No, it was not Sesshoumaru that had killed her, as Inuyasha had explained; nor was it Inuyasha that had killed her, swore Naraku:  no, now the truth finally was revealed to the world.

Eighteen years ago, it was not Sesshoumaru nor Inuyasha; but Naraku. 

Naraku, the lord who had returned her to the living, the lord whose plans remained to be a mystery, but slowly, piece by piece, Kikyou would ensure the dark lord would fall and claim the retribution he so justly deserved. 

Leaning forward, Kikyou held Inuyasha close and smiled softly in the dark.  Yet, Inuyasha frowned softly and closed his eyes so that he could escape the image of his forgotten wife still haunting him.

***

AN: just got through that for the final spell check/update. As I did so, a few things struck me. Number one, IY is rather OOC, but I didn't change anything because Inuyasha CAN be serious, he just isn't portrayed that way. (Usually)…but in, any case, I found that Kikyou was not THAT annoying. I mean, it is KIKYOU so I mean, it usually hast to be that way!

Hmmmmmmmmmm, I have decided to update this story every two weeks on Friday…that is, until I hit a TOTALLY writers block here….which hopefully I shall not.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter

Sincerely

Cappie

Read, review say 'fuku'!

cappiepost@yahoo.com


	21. a crown of lanterns

Title: Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

Series: Inuyasha

Genre: romance/action/adventure/drama

Chapter: 21

Chapter's major characters: Sesshoumaru/Kagome

Chapter's supporting characters: Kaede/Hiroyoshi

AN:  The long awaited (was it really long awaited?  Ah, oh well, I don't know, nor do I care.  If I say it is long awaited, then by golly it is!)  Obon festival!  This plans to be a very…uhm…well, it's a very dramatic and keystone chapter for the story.  It has a lot of revelations and some new information comes into the loop!  Also, there is…well, stuff happens between two people, but hey, I shan't go too far.  Anyways, I might use a few Japanese terms and stuff but I shall be sure to define them at the end of the chapter.  I hope you guys like this chapter!

Questionnaire:  So, how is Kikyou holding up in this story?  Are we liking her? (even those of us who hate her, myself included)  Is she being decent or her usual bitchy self?  

Now, on with the show!

Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

Chapter 21: A Crown of Lanterns

Picking up a slim volume of literature, Sesshoumaru browsed through the pages of collected haiku until he found a page that looked particularly interesting.  The first line had particularly caught his eye; and so reclining he began to read:

_Because there was a seed                                            _

_A pine has grown even here_

_On these barren rocks;_

_If we really love our love_

_What can keep us from meeting?_

Scanning the page once again he was disappointed to find the poet had remained anonymous.

Placing the book back on his bookshelf, Sesshoumaru realized it had been a great deal time indeed since he had read _haiku.  In the past he would have made a concentrated effort to read at least one verse in the morning and contemplate the words for the remainder of the day.  Often these contemplations would spurn inspiration as far as his own work was concerned.  A smile hinted on his lips and turning towards a bookshelf full of scrolls and bound books, Sesshoumaru withdrew a thick journal filled with his calligraphic writing from his past.  _

Flipping through the pages, he found a passage that (as he recalled) taken him a month to compose.  It had been difficult to find the precise word to encompass his feeling, and reading it even now he was relieved that he had taken the time with the poem.  Yet, the fact remained that the poem was written in his youth and was full of those sentimentalities…

_The flowers withered_

_Their color faded away,_

_While meaninglessly_

_I spent my days in the world_

_And the long rains were falling_

That had been a particularly dark period of his life, consumed by the grief and anger of his father's death, intensified by the injustice that his hanyou half-brother had gained the more powerful of the two famed swords.

Yet now, Sesshoumaru found the game of cat and mouse growing old.  He was the cat who would grant death to the mouse who wished to feel no drawn out pain.

Pushing the thoughts away from his mind, Sesshoumaru took the book towards his desk and laid it out on its polished surface. For the first time in several years he had a yearning inside him to write another haiku.  Perhaps one day he would publish them, but this would be after his death of course.  A youkai writing poetry?  Signs of weakness indeed…

Grinding his ink stone and adding some water so that the ink produced an liquid onyx color, he placed the bamboo brush against the rest and averted his eyes to the porch behind him.  The screens had been thrown open so that the glory of the summer day could be fully appreciated.  The latest storm was swiftly leaving the region, yet the white clouds still floated gracefully through the sky giving the world a pleasant look.  

It was now sunset and the layers of white and gray were highlighted with a rich golden color with hints of a deep scarlet.  Beyond the clouds were the mountains to the left and right, folding over one another in a relaxed and almost Zen-like fashion.

Lifting the bamboo brush, Sesshoumaru dipped it into the ink.  

*

Looking in the mirror, Kagome smiled and turned towards Fujiko who had helped her prepare for the festival.  It was strange; she thought idly to herself as she nervously fingered the light cotton sleeves: for the first time in many months she was excited.  Perhaps it was because she was leaving the compounds, but also, there were deeper reasons.

Since her youth, Kagome had always considered everyone equal, although this was against the way of her society.  She had been born affluent and with wealth came obligation to the people—this responsibility created visible ranks.  Ranks that Kagome had never accepted.  

As a child, she would play with the peasants, learn how to cook with hearty vegetables from the servants, the correct way to plant rice-seedlings from the farmers, the way to defend yourself if any leering gentleman came your way (from the nearby school of self-defense)—practical things that the courts did not think highly of.  The women of noble houses were expected to sing, have witty conversations, be beautiful, and obey their husband.  Of course, Kagome had tried; but for some reason she was a nail sticking up in the floorboard.  Time after time she had been told, "The nail that sticks up gets hammered down."

Kagome just figured that if she was to get hammered down sooner or later, she might as well enjoy her life for what it was.

This was why she so particularly wished to go to the festival.  She wished to dance; she wished to be one of the common folk (if only for a temporary amount of time).  She was in a place where she would not be recognized; she was in a place where she could brush freedom with her fingertips.

Fujiko was now adding a dangly ornament to her hair.  It was pretty enough to seize the eye, yet not so catching as to demonstrate that she was more prosperous than the fellow villagers.

Looking at herself in the mirror, Kagome continued to smile.  The yukata was a particularly fine design.  It was a deep navy blue with bright pastel pink and orange zinnias in full bloom splashing randomly across the fabric.  The obi was a golden color laced with hints of scarlet that set off the deep color of the fabric very well.  Fujiko was now tying the obi into an intricate bow as Kagome held her attire in place.  Really, putting on anything was a two person job.

As she waited patiently, Kagome let her mind wander.  It had been three days ago that she had spoken to Sesshoumaru about the festival.  She hoped very much that he would go with her—after all, he spent everyday locked inside his study hunched over his maps.  Or, if it was not his maps he concentrated on for the day it was practicing his swordsmanship.  Yet, it was his company that she desired more than anything!  If deluding herself that the motives behind his actions were so that he could attend to his overbearing responsibilities, then she would do anything.  However, she had dictate to herself, Sesshoumaru was a youkai who decidedly hated humans…yet, she was human…so…

"Kagome-sama, I'm finished!"  Fujiko announced, clapping her hands in excitement.

Turning to face her, Kagome questioned, "How do I look?  Will people stare at me?"

Fujiko laughed, and admitted, "Oh, yes, they will look all right, Kagome-sama!  But only because you are so beautiful!  It was a good thing that Lord Sesshoumaru decided that one of the servants will accompany you, or else you will be surrounded by men all night and be unable to dance at all!"

Blinking, and furrowing her eyebrows together, Kagome questioned seriously, "So, Lord Sesshoumaru will not be coming?"

Fujiko blinked, and chuckled, "Did you expect him to?  Lord Sesshoumaru hardly ever leaves this mountain top, and when he does it certainly isn't to partake in the local village festivals!"

A sinking feeling suddenly enveloped Kagome and her cheeks turned scarlet.  How foolish she had been to actually expect Sesshoumaru to go to the festival…what had she been thinking?  Of course he wouldn't go!  He was their noble, not some sort of wandering mistral.

"Perhaps…," Kagome began thickly, swallowing, "I should not go to the festival."

Fujiko leaned forward and felt her forehead with her cool and smooth hand, "Do you feel well, mistress?"

"Yes, fine." Kagome sighed, brushing her hand away and walking unsteadily to the veranda.  She felt so foolish and disappointed…

"Mistress," Fujiko began quietly, stepping towards her hunched frame, "Did you expect the lord to accompany you?"

The pain increased ten-fold.  Obviously, she _had been the only one under that impression._

Leaning against the pillar, Fujiko continued, "Yes, I can see that you did.  But Kagome-sama, you do not know what tomorrow will bring.  Who knows, perhaps tomorrow you will be with your husband again—,"

Kagome's heart tightened as she spoke the words.  Her husband…

"And perhaps you will never get to dance at Obon again, at least, not with the peasants.  If you do not take opportunities when they present themselves to you, then your life will be one of regrets.  You are too young to have such regrets, Kagome-sama."  Fujiko continued smoothly, and then, adding with a flash of a grin, "And too beautiful."

Shakily, Kagome looked at Fujiko and nodded.  Yes, she was right.  Whether or not Sesshoumaru went was of no matter, she would have an enjoyable time, she would dance with the commoners an experience and enjoy life for the time being.  Yes, everything to her was temporary, like the blossoms of spring.

"Yes. Thank you, Fujiko."  Kagome nodded, bowing deeply.

"You should hurry, Kagome-sama," Fujiko warned, handing her the props needed for the dances. (They consisted of a set of kachi-kachi, a rounded fan, a folding fan and a piece of cotton cloth)  Placing the kachi-kachi and cloth into her drawstring bag, Kagome bowed once again and announced, "I will tell Sesshoumaru-sama of my departure, and then I shall go."

She never heard Fujiko's reply; although Kagome could guess it would be something along the lines of "have a lovely time".  No, she wished to leave the grounds as soon as possible.  She wanted to leave while she still had the courage to do so by herself.

Outside it was a fine night just cool enough so as to make an ideal temperature for dancing under the glowing lanterns, yet warm enough so that a coat was not required.  The stars were just beginning to twinkle in the twilight and the waxing moon had appeared over the horizon of the great towering mountains above.

The screens of Sesshoumaru's study were alit with the many flames of oil-lamps that cast light to nearly every corner of the room.  Kneeling down to the ground, she questioned softly, "May I come in?"

The usual rustle of papers, and then, "Yes, come in Kagome."

Opening the screens she bowed her head and smiled.  Perhaps she would stay where she was, in the safety of the hall.  She was too unnerved and saddened to go into his private sanctuary.  She often disturbed his privacy, and she was unsure if her visits were unwelcome, though as of late their conversations had been improving.  Yet, she had a sinking feeling that if she entered the room, she would try to persuade him to come to the festival, something that she was also sure Sesshoumaru would give a firm 'no' to.

Realizing that she had been staring expressionlessly at the tatami mats within his room, she snapped her head up and found that he was looking intently at her with his deep serious eyes.  A flush began to crawl up through her body as she looked into his eyes and spoke quietly, "I-I'm leaving." 

Sesshoumaru took a moment to reply, as though he had been in some sort of daze as well, "Oh?  And where are you leaving to?"

So, he had forgotten…

"The festival," she whispered, well aware that the youkai ears would have picked up the words.

"The festival," Sesshoumaru repeated coolly as though slowly savoring the words.  After a brief pause, he replied, "I see.  I have arranged for one my servants to accompany you and to make sure," he paused, coughed, and continued, "to make sure you stay safe."

Smiling, Kagome admitted, "That is very kind of you, but hardly worth the effort."

"You are worth every effort, Kagome," Sesshoumaru stated firmly, his eyes once again glaring at her.

She began to flush even more.

"Well, I know that trying to persuade you is useless," Kagome whispered in a hollow voice, "So, I hope you have a pleasant night…"

"What?  Persuade me to go?"  Sesshoumaru questioned, as though the idea was totally unheard of.

Bowing deeply in his direction, Kagome gave a cheerful smile (a smile that did not reach her eyes) and slid the screen slowly shut.  A second later, her footsteps echoed down the hallway towards the main entrance of the mountain fortress.

_So…she wished me to go…_

_Why?_

_Does she desire my company so badly?_

Looking down at the parchment, he was suddenly struck with inspiration for the last line of his poem.  Taking his bamboo brush, he finished the verse and read it over once.  Yes, it summed up his emotions exactly…

_At the sunset hour_

_The clouds are ranged like banners_

_And I think of things:_

_That is what it means to love_

_One who lives beyond my world_

Looking towards the star-studded sky, Sesshoumaru thought dimly to himself, _She__ is beyond my world…_

The echoes of music and singing began to reverberate through the canyon.  Obon had begun.

*

Chewing on a bit of _dangothat he had just ordered, Hiroyoshi settled himself on the bench next to his wife who was causally leaning against a pillar with her eyes closed.  The music continued to play from the variety of country musicians and singers, and like a multitude of birds and butterflies the people in their multicolored attire danced about the circle in which the center was the musicians.  Over the music was the shout of vendors selling a variety of items including fans, clothes, kachi-kachi (incase you did not own a pair), dumplings, stew, a few games for the young children, and jewelry. _

Hiroyoshi and Kaede had already participated in a few dances but were still worn out by their long journey that they decided to wait on the benches in hopes that Kagome would come.  Their prayers had been answered, for not ten minutes after Obon had started, Kaede pointed to a young and attractive girl who had just entered into the area alit with golden, red, and cream colored lanterns.

"Over there," Kaede whispered, motioning indiscreetly, "That is her."

"Kagome?" Hiroyoshi questioned interestedly as he studied her form, "How do you know?"

Kaede looked at her husband and replied, "I have heard she bears an uncommon resemblance to my deceased sister, Kikyou.  Along with that, look how the girl holds herself.  There is training and class in that girl, even if she wishes to cast it off."

Hiroyoshi added thoughtfully, "If only for tonight, however."

"If only for tonight," Kaede repeated as she grabbed one of the _dango and plopped it in her mouth, grinning as she chewed it._

Hiroyosh's eyes were still on her, and he questioned matter-a-factly, "So, when do we make our first move?"

"Let her dance a bit," Kaede advised, "Perhaps during the break."

Hiroyoshi nodded and split the remaining _dango with his wife.  A moment later, he announced, "Well, Obon only comes once a year and I surely intend to dance."_

Kaede looked up at him and confirmed, "By all means, dance!"

Hiroyoshi held out his hand and smiled warmly, "With my wife of course."

Taking his hand, Kaede said nothing though good humor and happiness shone through her eyes.

*

Like the glowing of the moon, the lanterns could be seen from miles around.  Even from high atop the great mountain where Sesshoumaru resided, the pricks of golden and orange lights danced and shone like stars on earth.  The wind from the east was beginning to pick up, but only in gentle breaths causing the flecks of light to bobble in the darkness.  Sesshoumaru leaned against the side of his private porch and gazed intently down at the small little village at the base of his mountain.  For years, he had watched the Obon festivals come and go; yet of all the times he never had a yearning to attend, never wishing to see what it was all about.  Of course, this year so many things were different. 

He hardly wanted to dance, or interact with anyone for that matter; but perhaps it was that he wished to see what_ she found so amusing, why _she_ desired to do such a thing, which to him seemed rather…ridiculous?  How was it that this particular part of life drew something from her—he wanted to know what interested her and what called out to her; Sesshoumaru wanted to discover Kagome._

It would be easy enough to go unnoticed, Sesshoumaru supposed.  The festival took place on the edge of the mountain with trees growing very near to where the rhythmic and slow dancing took place.  He could very comfortably watch from the recesses high above in a pine tree—he could also very easily make sure that Kagome wouldn't get into trouble.  She had his servant, yes, but the servant (as servants did) might not prove to be reliable. 

Hesitantly, not fearing the height, but pondering upon his own foolish decision, he climbed over the edge and stood on the railing looking down at the steep and rocky mountain slope beneath him.  The wind flapped at the layers of his clothing and tore at his hair, its pressure more firm in the higher elevations.  Sesshoumaru's eyes narrowed, and leaning forward, he melted into the night.

*

It was nearly impossible to detect Kagome's presence at the Obon.  If she was not dancing, she was surrounded by a crowd of drooling men and adolescent boys.  They offered her their hand in marriage, gifts, jewels, silks (all things she knew they could not supply) and even their lives.  Of course, she had turned them all down very kindly but had promised that she would be friends with all of them.  Although this was not their initial desire, the men hoped that one day their friendship would blossom into love.

It was now half way through the festival and the musicians and singers alike were taking a break while they guzzled down water and sake while chewing on a piece of takoyaki or some other grilled object from one of the vendors.

To Kagome, the vendors seemed very interesting, although she was very sure she was not planning on buying anything (she had taken a bit of money, however, just in case anything interesting should be presented), Kagome wished to see what they were offering.

Excusing herself from the group of gentlemen, she fought her way through the crowds until she arrived at the main street where five tented stalls had sprung up in the middle of the night like a blossoming flower.  They were alight with candles and lanterns causing them to glow in the dusk.  Stepping out into the cool night, Kagome made her way towards a vendor where the glinting of jewelry caught her eye.

*

From within the arena where the dancing took place, Hiroyoshi's head popped up and he nudged his wife gently.  The two had managed to fall asleep after their last dance.  They had rested contentedly against one another, using each other for support.  Hiroyoshi now awoke quite suddenly and looked hurriedly about the floor. Kagome was decidedly absent.  This did not bode well.

"Kaede!"  Hiroyoshi insisted, nudging his slumbering wife even more, "Kagome, she has disappeared!"

This awoke his wife in a start as she scanned the area as well for any signs of the beauty.  Yet, she was no longer there.

"Where do you think she went?"  Kaede whispered seriously.

Hiroyoshi suggested darkly, "Do you think she returned?"

Kaede shook her head, causing her hair to catch the lantern light, "No, not yet.  There is only one other place she could be; looking at the vendors."

Hiroyoshi nodded and stood up followed suite by his wife and they hurried through the crowds of Obon out into the night air.  Their eyes scanned the crowds warily and full of misgivings—if Kagome had managed to escape from right under their noses…

"Ah!  There she is!"  Hiroyoshi exclaimed, pointing across the street where a figure was stooped down looking at the jewelry that a vendor had to offer.  Frowning ever-so-slightly, Hiroyoshi inquired, "Do you suppose we should go to her now?"

Kaede nodded sternly, "It is either now or never.  I have my suspicions that she has been instructed not to linger after the festival has ended; and this will prove troublesome when we plan on 'explaining' things to her."

Hiroyoshi readily agreed, and the two walked calmly across the courtyard, bowing to those who paid the same respect to them.  After all, despite their seemingly dark purpose towards Kagome, the two were priests and priestesses in their own right.

*

"Yes, may I help you, pretty lady?" the withered elderly man questioned as Kagome neared his stand and bent over to look at the pieces sparkling in the lantern light.

Glancing up, Kagome smiled slightly and replied, "I am just looking, sir."

The old man nodded, yet his eyes remained on Kagome's figure.  It was a look of deep concentration and almost one of deep sorrow.  Over time, creases and folds etched in his kind features had given him the appearance that he was always smiling, even when his heart burst with sorrow from the departure of his wife to the next life.  He was healthy, however, and still managed every day to return to the rice fields of his son and help in some way around the farm.  He knew tricks to the trade, tricks that he had yet to teach his only descendant.  However, his son was growing and learning fast, and these days he found himself spending most of his time polishing stones and forming glass pieces of jewelry at which to sell at festivals and local village bazaars. 

He often thought of traveling to Edo and working under the great masters of the ornamental artists, but perhaps it was his old age or country upbringing that caused him to stay in the rolling hills of this prefecture.  He had grown to love everything about the area, even the cold winter winds that always seemed to find their way inside the house.

Blinking sadly at the girl who knelt before him, he was reminded of his wife in her youth.  She had that same sparkle in her eyes, the flicker of things in their natural form; something that was not bent to the desires of man, but allowed to grow in any fashion she wished.

Tracing her gaze, he found that she was gazing intently at two pieces of jewelry.  Their design was practically identical, as well as the shape of the stone.  However, it was the two completely diverse colors of the stone that gave them the appearance of being two entirely different pieces in design.  The first of the two necklaces was made out of a silver link chain; with two circular clasps followed by two dark obsidian beads he had bartered off a traveling gentleman from Hokkaido.  The large circular clasp was repeated once again until a stone about the size of one-third of his pinky finger seemed to form out of the silver.  Like a soy bean escaping its pod, it seemed as though the stone would slip out of the grasp for its surface was polished so much that it gave the appearance of being wet. And indeed, the color of the stone gave it the allusion like a large drop falling from off a leaf.  The color was deep cobalt on the outside yet it steadily grew lighter towards the inside to a beautiful sky blue.  This affect of the glass also gave the impression that the necklace was glowing.

The second of the two necklaces was made out of the same material, the silver and obsidian, yet the stone was a deep amber color which flecks of gold dust within its interior making it look like a ray of golden sunlight captured in the glass.  Depending which way it was looked at, it would take on either a sunset-like color or that of late afternoon.

The girl looked up, hesitantly, and she smiled pointing towards the two necklaces, "Well, they have gotten the better of me.  I can't resist."

The old gentleman smiled nicely, and noticed for the first time the color of her eyes.  It was startling how much the blue necklace matched her eyes (no doubt, he thought, the reason she wished to purchase it.)

"Those two are family, you see.  I made the chain out of the same reserve of silver and the beads from the same source.  I suppose it is right that they are not separated."

Kagome's smile faltered for mysterious reasons, yet soon it regained its usual beauty and she questioned, "How much are they?"

The man smiled again, stroked his chin, and then concluded, "Well, for you, 1,500."

The girl retrieved the coins from her pocket and counted them dubiously while the man began to wrap the blue stone, still eying her with looks of reverence.  Although she had a free spirit, her movements were as graceful as that of the noble court.  He began to wonder idly if she was not of this earth.

As he reached for the golden necklace, she called, "Do you mind if I wear that one?"

Handing it to her, he watched as she clasped it about her neck.

A few moments later, she was gone, and the old man turned to take a walk down to the nearby hotel to order a bento.

*

Halfway across the courtyard, Kagome paused and looked wide eyed at the two figures who were heading directly towards her.  If the two had not been dressed in garments of the Shinto shrine, Kagome would have been frightened.  Standing still and watching them approach, she waited until she was absolutely sure who or what their target was.  She had not been mistaken in assuming that it was her.  Blinking and stepping back, she questioned warily, "Yes?"

The tall and handsome man stepped forward and bowed deeply, his voice soft and subdued.  It comforted and eased her nerves temporarily, "It is a pleasure to meet you at last, Kagome-sama.  My name is Hiroyoshi." Motioning to his wife, he replied, "And this is my wife, Kaede."

Unsure whether she should run or bow in turn, Kagome chose the second option and introduced herself to these people, although with names, but strangers nonetheless.

"It is a pleasure to meet you for the first time," Kagome bowed deeply as well.  

Upon returning to an upright position she found the two strangers faces grave and utterly serious, as though someone had died or…

"Kagome-sama, you have nothing to fear."  Kaede insisted in earnest, trying to convey their message.

Hiroyoshi nodded and added, "We mean you no harm, in truth.  All that we require is ten minutes of your time."

Although Kagome hardly trusted the two, she figured that these people (whoever they were) had traveled a great distance to find her (as was evident by the state of their shoes) and as such she should at least give them the courtesy of listening to what they had to say.

The drone of the music began again and the second half of Obon was about to begin.  It was too bad, Kagome sighed to herself, experiencing a vague feeling that this would take much longer than five minutes.

"Do you mind missing the last half?"

Fingering her yukata nervously, unsure of the moralities of these two, she asked, "May I dance five more dances?"

The two exchanged looks which to Kagome seemed meaningless yet held something between the two.  The music floated in the breeze and rustled her hair gently.

"I do not think that is an unreasonable request," Kaede whispered. There were ten dances for each half of the dance which was an hour a piece.  So, half an hour would give the three more than enough time to 'talk'.

Smiling, Kagome bowed and questioned, "Is there somewhere you wish to meet me afterwards?"

"The local temple.  Do you know where that is?"  Hiroyoshi questioned kindly.

"I will ask for directions," Kagome called, hurrying towards the calling light of lanterns.  As she neared the crowd once again, the great longing for his company over swept her heart and for a moment a famous haiku flooded into her mind…

_When I plucked the notes_

_After many months of silence,_

_I yearned for you,_

_And notes became chords_

_On which to thread my tears_

Heaving a sigh, Kaede wrapped her arms about her husband's waist as they made their way towards the temple, which like the dance grounds was crowned in a wreath of glowing paper lanterns.

***

_kachi-kachi__: basically, clickers made out of wood or bamboo used in the dances. They are fun to click  Wheee!_

_Takoyaki__: I might have mentioned this in past chapters, but yeah, they are octopus balls and not as bad as they sound._

AN: I personally found this chapter rather boring, myself…I mean, the beginning was good I suppose but it went down hill from there.  However, the scenes had to be written and there was no avoiding that.  I need to make sure all the pieces fit together and the story is complete, so even these boring scenes are needed.  Anyways, next chapter, beware of MAJOR action.  Okay, not major, but it is interesting and so…waffy…

Btw, what did you think of the haiku's?  May I add that none of them are mine.  A few are anonymous, others written by people who gave their name.  If you really want to know, contact me, k?

*grins broadly*

Okay, so yes, feel free to give me a buzz @

cappiepost@yahoo.com

Feel that isn't enough?  Well then, IM me @ kantou matsuri or cappiechan (actually, as of late, I use cappiechan more…)

laa dee da, gosh, summer is over for me, and then I will have the hell of senior year avec colleges, SAT's and the like!  *bonk*

2nd questionnaire: so, who thinks this is an S/Kag fic? Who thinks this is an IY/Kag fic? It would be interesting to know…

oh, also, check out my site

I do have a xanga site, btw, with info as well far as fic progressions go and the daily life of me! Wow, how interesting! SN is 'cappie'! who would have guessed!?

Read, review, say 'sayonara natsu!'


	22. lights aglow with dreams of reality

Title: Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

Series: Inuyasha

Chapter 22

Genre: romance/action/adventure/drama

Chapter's primary characters: Kagome/Sesshoumaru

Chapter's secondary characters: Hiroyoshi/Kaede

AN: Well, in this chapter we see the return of "Hagakure" which is the book of the samurai.  I decided to go back a bit to this book because, really, we have a lot to learn from it.  Hopefully, I will not use the same quotes I did in my past stories.  But, alot of this book has stuff like, "If you cut a face diagonally (or was it vertically?), stomp on it, and urinate on it, the skin will peel off".  Now really, how is that relevant to this story, hm?  Anyways, also, there is return of haiku.  I love haiku.  Or maybe, these are actually poems…oh well.

Originally, chapters 21+22 were going to be one long chapter, but I decided breaking them up was better, because the chapter would have been like…30 pages long, or else I would have made the ending shorter than it should have been.  Anyways, you guys want all the action in this chapter anyways.

Notes:  depending on what I find in my Cultural Dictionary of Japan (gosh, it is a handy thing.  If you plan on writing a story with lots of references, this helps a lot!  It's just sort of hard to find because it was printed in the 70's…)  I will use references to architecture. But I won't use them so much that you will have to reference every word.

*

Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

Chapter 22

Lights Aglow with Dreams of Reality

The music continued on, as though it planned to play until eternity.  The dull cry of voices far below muted the sound somewhat, but still the twang of the Shamisen and the great roaring thunder of the Taiko drums still managed to float upward to the tip of the pine tree where Sesshoumaru rested lazily against the trunk.  He gazed unemotionally at the swarming bodies below him, their movements echoing the dancers above on a small wooden platform stage.  The young watched hesitantly from the position in the front and tried to the best of their ability to follow the movements.  The adults and teenagers were alike; unsure of the movements as well, so often they were delayed by several seconds.  Looking down from high above, their hindrance was most evident.  Perhaps it was the elders who managed the dancing to the greatest affect.  Their movements were not calculated or hesitant, but instead graceful after many years of practicing at festivals.

Perhaps, thought Sesshoumaru, a slight grin gracing his handsome features, one of the few adults that managed the dancing with the same knowledge of the elder and the grace of the performers on stage, was Kagome.  Her movements were fluid like water, moving breezily into the next step; the next wave of the hand, the following swish of the arm.  Her golden folding fan glinted and caught the light as she twisted her wrist to each of the movements.

For some time now, high above in his pine tree, Sesshoumaru had been watching Kagome.  He was beginning to comprehend why she found the dancing so wonderful.  It was not as though it required great effort, yet the affects it gave off were pleasant and enjoyable.  It was a sport all could participate in, no matter their experience level.  It was a time for her to shine among the people of the real world.

This was not to say he wished to dance. No. Far from it.

Reaching inside the lining of his attire, Sesshoumaru withdrew a small slim novel which had been reading earlier that day. Sesshoumaru found in particularly ironic that the book fell open to the particular page onto which was only written a single poem by the Emperor of the Muromachi period.

_My miserable state_

_Is apparent even to you—_

_Know that my concern_

_For my beloved people_

_Even now remains unchanged_

From the glow of the lanterns far below him, Sesshoumaru had more than enough light to browse through the pages of the manuscript.  His long tapered fingers occasionally flicked through the sheets, searching for a particularly brilliant poem in which he could contemplate the meaning for several minutes.

The intermission of the Obon had come and gone and Sesshoumaru presumed that Kagome would continue to dance for the remainder of the festival.  However, it was his presumption which would be his temporary downfall.

_Indeed it is true_

_That I have quite forgotten_

_The passage of time—_

It was not until he read the poem half way through that a cold chill suddenly crept through his spine.  The lanterns were slowly beginning to flicker to an end, although those remaining still gave off enough light in which to read by.  Yet, he had been so engrossed by the words that he had not noticed that the festival had ended quite some time ago.  The area in which the villagers had been dancing was now bare except for a few people cleaning the litter and pulling down the lanterns from the rafters ahead.  Through the glow and multi-colored paper orbs, Sesshoumaru saw the servant that he had directed to watch after Kagome sitting glumly on a box, his head rested in his hands.

He did not appear to be drunk, no, on the contrary, just frightened and angry.

Snapping the book shut in fury, Sesshoumaru quickly descended the tree in the easiest and quickest way possible.  That being, of course, to jump from the limb some fifty meters above the ground.  For a few seconds the wind whipped out his clothes and his long hair—yet it ended suddenly, almost as soon as it had begun.  Although the landing was light and not painful, he still startled the villagers who looked at him in horror.

"I-It is Sesshoumaru-sama!" one of them screamed in terror.

All those that were in the immediate vicinity fell to the ground, bowing their heads in terror.  They knew of Sesshoumaru's bloodthirsty nature.

_Humans..., Sesshoumaru thought darkly to himself as he strode quickly towards his servant who was looking up at him, fear shining in his great wide eyes.  Like the villagers, he too feared for his life._

"Where is she?" Sesshoumaru hissed sharply, lifting up the servant by the collar and digging his claws into his skin, stopping just before he drew blood.

"Your life depends on your answer...," Sesshoumaru hissed in a dark voice, hinting of the pain yet to come.  Pain was inevitable, at least in the servant's case--but suffering, well that was optional, "Where is she?" he repeated.  His voice had turned ice cold, and there was such a contrast between his voice and the fire ablaze in his eyes, threatening to wreck havoc on all that he touched.

The servant began to shiver, and through chattering teeth he whispered, large salty tears streaming down his round face, "She has vanished my lord!"

Throwing him into the dirt, Sesshoumaru stood above him, his lip sneering in repulsion and rage.  Saying nothing, yet intent evident in his eyes, Sesshoumaru stalked out into the night.  His blood was pounding through his body in anger and frustration, not only at Kagome, but at his own foolishness.  Of course something like this was bound to happen! No doubt, Kagome had tried to escape and now he would have to go and find her out in the wild.  

As he strode out into the quiet and clear night, an emotion of questioning ran like lightening through his body.

_Why would she wish to leave?_

Sniffing the air for her scent (quite easy to do so, considering he knew it so well) he paced out into the star filled night; unaware of the state he would find Kagome in…

*

The courtyard of the temple was particularly quiet and devoid of people when Kagome entered.  Lanterns glowed peacefully overhead dimly lighting the far off shadows that lurked and surrounded the grounds.  The stones seemed to be seeped in the deepest black that shone glossy like water so it gave the illusion that she was walking across liquid.  The stars above were particularly bright, as though the lantern light was like a source of energy to them.  The pine trees were inky like; dim, blurry and one large mass only distinctive by the top of each tree.  Compared to the hustle and bustle, the voices, the music, the shouts, the whispers, the yells; the temple was a surreal place for Kagome, a place that reminded her of her residence for the past months.  It was beautiful, full of history, yet it was the people which made this flower bloom.

The temple itself was Shinto in its architectural style so that there were no bright shades of red painted on the columns; all was in shades that the earth gave; browns, grays, whites and blacks.  This was comforting as well, for here she felt more at peace with the world, as though she belonged, as though her existence somehow meant something to someone somewhere.

_To someone…___

Closing her eyes, she clutched at the folding fan which she had been idly holding as she walked down the lonely and deserted streets of the village.  It was only at this moment that fear clutched her heart and forced her to see the shadows as frightening shapes, the wind no longer gentle but yelling through her ears.

Calling out into the darkness which now seemed to surround her, she heard the rustle of leaves and was relieved to find the Hiroyoshi and Kaede speedily walking towards her form from across the courtyard.  It seemed as though they had been waiting for some time for her and Kagome felt slightly guilty that she had taken so long. Obviously these figures were on a mission of some importance and it had been her girlish wishes to dance which had prolonged the service they wished to render.

"Please excuse me for my lateness," Kagome apologized, bowing deeply.

Kaede and Hiroyoshi smiled softly down at the young girl.  She was really quite...unique.  Although she was eighteen years old, she still had the curiosity of a child, yet there was something strangely fierce and dark within her soul which at times would appear and startle whoever was to witness the transformation.

"Do not think anything of it," Kaede insisted, "We have heard you were looking forward to this festival, and it was our ill-timed arrival that did not allow you to enjoy it to the fullest."

Kagome said nothing, but looked at them, obviously waiting for the purpose of the meeting.

Hiroyoshi coughed, but said nothing.  This tale was his wife's to tell and he would take as little part in the whole event as was possible.  It would be hard to make the girl believe, it would be hard to make her see, to make her trust, to make her understand.  Oh, how difficult was this obstacle.  Yet, once they cleared that initial hill the sailing would be smooth and easy like a ship afloat on a cloudless and breezy day.

"Please, Kagome-sama, sit down," Kaede offered, motioning to a large rock some few feet off.  It was no tatami mat, yet it served its temporary function.

Kagome, although impatient and unsure, did so, yet continued to look at the two people who had appeared out off the shadows like a fox.

"Kagome, you are eighteen years old, am I correct?"  Kaede began, not really expecting an answer, for she already knew what it would be.  Kagome nodded, and Kaede continued on, "Wait, no, this is a terrible start."

She thought for a moment, biting her nail in apprehension.  A few seconds later, she began afresh.

"When I was a young girl I had a sister who was a priestess at a shrine which guarded a jewel of legend known as the Shikon no Tama.  Have you heard of this jewel?"

Kagome admitted, "I always thought it was but an old wives tale, myself."

"Understandable," Kaede agreed, nodding and grinning, "Even I, who was her sister, find the turn of events impossible to believe.  Yet, there they are.  One must accept what life gives them and do the best with what the have."

Kaede paused for a long moment and released an amount of pent up air which seemed to become constricted in her body, "It was eighteen years ago that my sister died on an evening in midsummer.  You see…," Kaede paused, her cheeks aflame and her eyes filled with moisture.  She was unsure, unsteady, what came next was the hardest thing to utter.

"You are the reincarnation of my sister, Kikyou, who died those eighteen years ago on that midsummer night."

Kagome blinked and moved uneasily about on the rock.  What had they just said?  She was a reincarnation of a priestess?  She wished to believe them, with all her heart, yet it did not make sense.  The thought seemed so romantic and so unbelievable, the plot twist that would be found in an engrossing novel.  Why would she of all be people be reincarnated as this priestess?  Why her?  She had no powers, this she was sure of.

"You must be mistaken," Kagome assured, standing now, and gazing at the two with dark and serious eyes.

"No, we are not mistaken." Kaede whispered, shutting her eyes, tears trickling down her cheeks.

Hiroyoshi spoke for the first time.  His voice was quiet and low, yet convincing in its sound.  He touched his wife on the shoulder and steadied her slightly; Kaede had never truly recovered from her sister's unfortunate and gruesome death.

"Understand, Kagome-sama, this hardly made sense to us in the beginning.  It seemed highly unlikely that you should be the reincarnation of the priestess Kikyou.  Yet think…Kikyou died in midsummer, and you were conceived in the early months of summer allowing for your birth in spring.  Along with that…if it were not you, then why would Naraku be so interested in assuring that he had you under his grasp when the time came to enact whatever he was indeed planning?"

Kagome leaned against the smooth rock for support and clutched her forehead.  

"This…this cannot be…!  How do you know of Naraku?  How is it that you know I am her reincarnation?  It makes no sense.  I am Kagome, a girl from a wealthy family, wife to Inuyasha—but nothing more am I.  There is nothing more to me than you see here standing before you."  Kagome insisted truthfully.  Yet as she spoke these words that she presumed so blindly were the truth, a small crack began to form—and it soon grew bigger until it threatened to overturn her already discombobulated world.

As she sat there, gazing at the two religious figures, images of long ago began to flash through her mind like a lightening storm in deep summer.  The memories of her childhood were coming back to her now; the instances in her dreams in which she would recall a silver haired person by her side or crying on her shoulder.  She had often asked her mother if they had known a silver-haired gentleman, but always the answer was the same.  Always she was rejected in these beliefs—always told that "No, they had never known a silver-haired person."  Was this silver-haired man the Inuyasha of eighteen years ago?  Were those dreams in reality a memory from a past life she was unaware of? 

"But it is true, Kagome-sama," Hiroyoshi stated, stepping forward and looking her firmly in the eye.  There was no joke or mocking in his eyes; only the truth as he saw it.  "It is."

Kagome was standing now.

"Then why…why is Naraku after me?  Why is it that he has kept me alive?  If I am what he is after, why doesn't he kill me?"  Kagome questioned furiously, stepping back and averting her head so that she did not look at Hiroyoshi.  An aura of anger surrounded her figure threatening to wreak havoc on her emotionally unstable form.  She was nearing the edge…

Why, Kagome wondered to herself frantically, did she have to be the reincarnation?  Why was it she who was so subjected to this torture?  She would have much rather been a peasant rather than have to deal with the formalities of the court, the rules of love, the rules of not loving—the boundaries, the constant boundaries!

Kaede forced Kagome's eyes to meet her own, and she answered slowly, steadily and seriously.  Perhaps her voice was the most serious at this time during the conversation.  There was not pity, only the truth that glowed like fireflies among the lanterns.

"Within you, Kagome-sama, you carry the jewel; the Shikon no Tama."

Kagome stepped back and asked, "You cannot be serious.  That is just an old wives' tale!"

"No, Kagome…it is as real as you."  Hiroyoshi whispered from his position, once again behind his hakama-clad wife who was trying desperately to convince Kagome of the truth.

What was truth, after all?  Was not truth subjective in its own right?

Yet what was the purpose of 'this truth'?  What would it accomplish?  Pain, suffering—believing that your life no longer belonged to you?  What was the purpose to the truth; why not be deluded, yet content, among the deep forest of lies?

"Than I am not real," Kagome whispered, her eyes beginning to brim with tears.  She looked down at her hands, studying them as though they were transparent and through the layers of skin she could see the ground beneath her. "My life is not my own, but it belongs to your sister…"

Kaede shook her head and insisted, "Kagome!  You are real, you are alive—you live, just as all of us live.  Your life is chosen by your choices, not my sister's.  Already I can see aspects in you that my sister never demonstrated.  Yes, my sister was the most powerful miko of her time, but the bravery and the lust of life that you exhibit…they were not a part of her.  My sister was powerful, but her power could not make her enjoy life…Kagome, you are you.  Kikyou _was Kikyou.  And although you only share a power and a common goal—this does not make you her!" Kaede's face was streaked with tears, as though the things which she had spoken up had been tormenting her for years, as though she was finally able to accept her sister for what she indeed was; a woman with no lust for life that had been so carelessly thrown away._

Kagome said nothing, still looking down at her hands, transfixed to the spot.  She looked up a few moments later, her eyes dilated with the tears that streamed down her face.  She bowed, slowly, saying nothing—but the purpose was demonstrated in the eyes.  She had accepted the fact that yes; she was the reincarnation of Kikyou, yet not the same purpose. But still, this new information spun around her head—she had to be alone, she had to slowly sort out the information piece by piece…

Her life had suddenly become pieces she had to slowly pick up.  A time consuming task.

She left them, Hiroyoshi and Kaede, standing next to the main shrine of the temple their eyes sympathetic to her plight yet full of determination for an unknown cause.  Perhaps she was their cause.  

Stumbling over the steps which suddenly seemed as slippery as ice, Kagome clung to the trunk of a pine tree for support, her breath coming rapidly and raspy.  She closed her eyes and swallowed, trying to block out the world.  So…what of her new life—she thought darkly to herself—wasn't she not a new person this evening?  A few moments later, she had escaped the world and was falling rapidly into a warm and comforting darkness where all was revealed—for the young girl had fainted amongst the dried leaves of yesterday.

*

Her scent was relatively easy to track as he traveled further away from the crowds still remaining from Obon.  As he continued in a southerly route, Sesshoumaru wondered idly to himself why Kagome would travel out so far—nearly to the end of the small little village.  As he neared the crest of a hill, overlooking nothing but open roads and rice fields, a fleeting and hysterical emotion grasped at him.  Although he could not detect Kagome's scent past the hill, it instead followed up a gravel road no wider than three meters across.  This hill lead directly into the dark and imposing forest that eventually led to the base of hill at where lay his fortress.  Had Kagome decided to take this path home?  Sesshoumaru was unsure where the path lead to, but he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that it did not lead to his domain.

Stepping up the road quickly he found that her scent of lilacs began to grow increasingly strong with every step he took.  The scent over powered above all others, even that of the surrounding pine trees.  Was this his imagination, he wondered, that intensified her scent?  Or, were there other causes?

His pace quickened and before he was even aware of his actions he found himself running swiftly up a flight of stairs, the forest surrounding him like a blanket on either side.  His heart and his head were both insisting that something was terribly wrong.  Why had he ever allowed Kagome to go to the blasted festival in the first place?!  Why had he even considered it!?

Why…

_Why?  Oh, that is too easy, Sesshoumaru—his mind thought in an amused voice._

Oh?  Then please explain.  He thought begrudgingly.  

_You wished her happiness._

That is preposterous.

_Oh? Perhaps it is then…perhaps you wished for your happiness._

_After all…you can not stand in a fire and help but be consumed…_

He would have mentally kicked himself, but it was at this point, dimly unaware of his surroundings, he looked down towards the roots of a nearby tree that he found Kagome's fallen body sprawled about the gnarled figurines as though the tree had reached out and grabbed her.  Her face was pale and stained with tears and her mouth slightly parted as though she had been breathing heavily.  Although her yukata did not seem tampered with by less than honorable intentions, there was something about her that reeked of sorrow and loss and forlorn.

He sank to her side.

Feeling her head he found that she had no fever but had just appeared to have suffered from something troubling or disturbing.  Pausing as he reached down to cradle her in his arms, he withdrew for a second.  Every moment he was with her, it seemed impossible to believe the girl was married to his half-brother Inuyasha.  It seemed impossible to imagine that she was bound to that hanyou for the rest of her days—it was impossible to imagine her future with Inuyasha, when at the present there was so much more that he, Sesshoumaru, could offer.  

Placing his hand against her shoulder, he looked about and noticed that through the leaves and needles trees he could see the glow of lanterns.  The path curved around towards a dwelling (which turned out to be the village temple).  The village inhabitants must have begun the festival at the shrine then flowed down the hill into the area in which Obon took place.  However, the lanterns were still lit and glowing cheerfully among the arches and sculpted greenery.  Every so often, however, a lantern would become subject to the wind and would fall to the ground, its candle extinguished.  During those mighty gusts which poured down from the mountain, the whole world seemed to flicker and Sesshoumaru wondered idly if life was an illusion.

Looking down once again at Kagome, he held in his heart an emotion of deep sorrow, but diligently and unemotionally as he could manage, he slowly cradled her in his arms and continued up the pathway towards the temple alit with globes of happiness itself.

By the time that he reached the temple gardens, Kagome was beginning to stir and groan. It was a pleasant feeling, thought Sesshoumaru, and how comfortably Kagome seemed to fit in his arms.  It was as though the pair that went together and had been separated from each other for a long and lonely period of time.  Yet, Sesshoumaru thought darkly, their separation would have to continue much longer indeed, no matter how much he desired her at this moment.  Closing his eyes, Sesshoumaru focused his thoughts.

The garden of the temple was lush and full of a variety of plants.  The camellias were still blooming in the soft light, their pastel pink and deep red edges reflecting the simple beauty that was characteristic of the shrine itself.  

Placing Kagome down against a bench carved out of a large chunk of granite from some nearby quarry, Sesshoumaru gently leaned her torso against his side.  The weight was not cumbersome, but pleasant and perfectly respectable.

Closing his eyes once again, Sesshoumaru listened to Kagome's breath heave in and out.  Soon, she would awake from the dark dream which had possessed her temporarily.  Perhaps, Sesshoumaru thought incredulously, the girl would actually tell him about her tragic plight.  Though, why would he be so lucky as to hear what was ailing her when he himself locked his own emotions from the day?  It was a strange relationship the two of them shared and consisted mainly of the energy that each fed off of one another—there was nothing actually said, but perhaps everything was implied and subtle.  Autumn was never announced every year—it just happened, it was accepted and anticipated.

As he sat there, his body hunched over and his head resting in his hands, he thought deeply.  Upon discovering her body in the woods, Sesshoumaru had vowed not to scold the girl for her foolishness of wandering off.  If he perceived correctly, there had been a deeper meaning behind her departure from Obon and her arrival at the _Jinja.  There had been a purpose—something that had to be done, without exception, without delay; instantly.  Also, it appeared that whatever had been her purpose in visiting the sacred place it had ended not as she would have wished it.  No doubt, Kagome, the bird always anxious to see the world, had come to the place with the best intentions. Yes…perhaps it was easier to begin everything with the best intentions…_

Yet, she was slowly awakening now, he could feel that her breathing had stopped and imagined her opening her deep eyes and taking in a gasp not yet recognizing her surroundings.  She had for so long been spending her nights in her private quarter at his domain that perhaps everything else seemed foreign and rather…dare he ponder, frightening?  More over, hardly anyone expected to wake up in the middle of a Shinto Shrine.

"Sesshoumaru…?" Kagome questioned, sitting slowly up, unconsciously touching his back for support as she leaned forward.  Not yet looking at her or reacting to her touch that caused his skin to tingle slightly, Sesshoumaru heard the rustle of fabric and imagined that she was reaching for her head with her other hand.  Yet, upon looking at her, he found that she was instead reaching for her neck where a pendant sparkled and glittered in the lantern light.  He had never noticed the jewel before, and he wondered in interest—is that new?

"Are you alright, Kagome?"  Sesshoumaru questioned; his own concern off-putting to even himself.  It was so uncharacteristic of his behavior that he felt rather ill at ease and nervous—though he would admit to nothing.  Yet nevertheless, it was strange.  It always seemed like such a struggle in regular conversation not to say her name, but then at other points it seemed the hardest thing in the world to say this word that consisted of three little syllables.

"I'm fine," Kagome replied, glancing up at him, a tired and sad smile blossoming on her features like the nearby camellias.  "I just…"  She noticed that her hand was resting upon his side, and glancing up at him, she withdrew it slowly and placed it in her lap.

Looking at Sesshoumaru as though trying to judge whether or not she should inform him of the information and turn of events she had just been subjected to.  She needed to tell someone, she realized desperately.  Kagome needed to release herself from the burden that was troubling her heart and pulling precariously at its strings.

It still seemed so unreal, so unbelievable…and would Sesshoumaru accept her word?  Did she wish him to?

"A priest and priestess spoke to me," she confided, fingering the other pendant that had been placed in the safety of her yukata.  

There were two pendants it seemed, thought Sesshoumaru, his eyes sliding to newly presented object.  That around her neck, a golden color, and that which lay in her hand; the stone of the deepest blue. She had withdrawn it, and was stroking the glass almost tenderly, as though such a movement would remedy any fear and trepidation that still remained.

Sesshoumaru said nothing, but instead studied her features.  Still remnant was the sparkle of Obon, the dancing, the voices, the music—the joy had not been lost to recent tragic event.  She looked the most beautiful at this moment, here under the lanterns.

"They said I am the reincarnation of Inuyasha's past lover."

A bird called for its mate from far away in the deep forest.

Sesshoumaru's incredulity was evident and he scoffed and spat, "They deserved to be thrown in the dungeon for lies they speak.  It would not surprise me if they, whoever they are, were half-insane."

"No."

Kagome closed her eyes, and leaned her head against Sesshoumaru's shoulder.  This, like her hand earlier, was an unconscious act; as though she looked to him for her strength.  Yet the action surprised both of them, for physical contact had never happened between the two of them before—well, not voluntarily at least, and each were unsure how the other would react.  Each expected the other to pull away in disgust or embarrassment; yet it was curious, for the two did not move from their positions.  

"No, I think I believe her." Kagome whispered, still clutching the blue pendant, "It makes sense…it makes sense to so many things.  Why I have memories to a life which is not my own, why Naraku desires me alive, why—,"

She did not continue her train of thought, but instead stood up suddenly, a smile on her lips and she offered, "Come, let us take a walk."  She knew that Sesshoumaru would not understand; she knew that he would not believe as she did.  Both knew that this conversation would end only in circles, creating a deep gash between the relationship that neither wished for.  Both knew this and spoke no more of Kikyou, or the unspoken of jewel.

Looking up at her from his seated position, Sesshoumaru shook his head and smiled sadly to himself, "You are a strange bird indeed."

Kagome only chose to smile more broadly.  It was a beautiful smile—a true smile, that which displayed all the happiness she had consumed during the night along with happiness that was to come.  The cool wind now wrapped around them both, its temperature comforting and oddly calming to Kagome's still ruffled feathers.  It was a cold wind that cleansed the soul and made it bare and naked in the light of the world. 

Standing to join Kagome, Sesshoumaru looked down at the top of her head and was suddenly swept over with a wave of possession.  He wanted Kagome to be his, perhaps more so than ever desiring his half-brother's sword.  Was Kagome worth a treasure such as that?

The two were standing on an arching bridge overlooking a pond in which the koi swam lazily under the dancing rings of night  air.  The moon high above seemed dwarfed by the stars in the sky and even the lanterns took a second place compared to their grand expansion across the night sky.

Kagome glanced up at Sesshoumaru, wondering what was running through his mind—yet as she did so, she was startled to find him looking intensely down at her.  Not pulling away from his eyes, she looked up at him wondering what exactly he was reflecting upon. She wanted to know him so deeply so that she would no longer have to guess.  She wished to know each emotion, each expression, each glimmer in his eyes…

Kagome closed her eyes to avoid his gaze that was beginning to bear into her soul and causing it to beat faster and faster.  She knew hope was useless—for even if something deeper than respect ran between the two of them, what was their hope?  Where was their evening star to wish upon?

It was no use, thought Sesshoumaru desperately, he had to know what it was like to have her.  Sesshoumaru had to know what his brother possessed and did not treasure.   

Once again, his brother had proved his idiocy. 

Reaching out suddenly, he forcefully drew her towards her so that there was no space in between their bodies.  Gripping at her light cotton yukata, he could feel the warmth of her skin beneath his finger tips.  Her eyes looked up into his, glowing and deep and full of the emotion that had taken him so long to realize; and he knew quite suddenly that this was what each had searched for.  It had been his pride, his over-powering youkai pride that had blinded the most beautiful of elements he had ever stumbled upon by pure chance. 

And now, she was his…

Leaning down to envelope her in a kiss, he felt her head burry against his chest and whisper softly and in the most tortured voice he had ever heard; "We mustn't." 

Sesshoumaru leaned his head against the top of hers and breathed in the scent of her; the scent he would never forget no matter how many years he roamed this lonely planet.  Her scent was probably everything he desired in a woman; the sweet smell of lilacs, the spiciness of juniper and the deep strength of sandalwood all combined to create something he had…

…and something he did not have as well.

She was right of course.  It was different for her; a female bound to the laws of her kind.  It was bad enough that for several months she had lived in a man's home unaccompanied; but now, the two were threatening to go against the laws of marriage.  They were falling in love.  It was unfair.  So terribly unfair and nothing could stop it.

"Kagome," Sesshoumaru whispered darkly, holding her tighter, trying to take a piece of her with him.  

No.  For the two of them, there was only now.  Today.  Tomorrow.  And any other days they would be granted together.  And after that…what if?  What would become of their doomed affair?

_You cannot stand in a fire and help but be consumed…_

Kagome was his fire, and how slowly he was sinking into ashes.  How quickly he became weakened at the sight of her—how easily he had allowed his defenses to fall to her face.  Yet were these sudden attacks really so unwelcome?  Had he, since the beginning, always been impenetrable to her eyes and witty repartee?  It was ironic that his greatest weakness was the woman of his brother; the woman caught between duty and emotion.  The woman whose life, through his desires, had turned to shambles.

There was only now, Sesshoumaru told himself, looking up into the lantern light and suddenly feeling the world was a wretched and unfair place for the first time in his long life.

The two held each other close under the lantern light, and slowly, Sesshoumaru whispered to her, "When the war ends…so will this affair.  At the present, there is only now and what tomorrow will bring…"

Kagome held him closer than she had ever hoped to in her life.  Never had she wished for time to stop in such a way as she did now.  Never had she wished for the dawn of the new day to disappear and for it to remain this perfect night forever.  The two of them, embraced under the lanterns, their love painful to the touch.

_Because there was a seed_

_A pine has grown even here_

_On these barren rocks;_

_If we really love our love_

_What can keep us from meeting?_

_******_

End Part II

**

*

_ Shamisen [samisen]: a traditional Japanese banjo like musical instrument with 3 strings. The body is covered with catskin. The samisen is played with a triangular ivory plectrum (bachi) by clucking the three strings, the heavier string giving a deeper tone than the lighter one. It is used for music accompany Bunraku and Kabuki as well as other narrative kinds of folk music. _

_Obon__: the Bon Festival celebrated on July 15—August 15 depending on the areas of __Japan__. According to popular Buddhist belief, ancestral spirits return to their families during the festival. Religious services are held at all temples and families pray in front of the home altar and family grave, offering incense and small sweets. Many lanterns are lit to guide the spirits in their journeys home, and so the Bon Festival is also called the Feast of Lanterns. During this festival, people throughout __Japan__ perform Bon folk dances in the evening to comfort and entertain their ancestors. After the Bon season is over, the spirits are said to return to heaven._

AN: So…hmm, what did everyone think of that chapter?  I found it a bit OOC myself, what with Sesshoumaru and all—but I figure, if I am gunna make him OOC, might as well do a full blown version of him, y'know?  I mean, if its gunna happen, might as well do it.  Anyways, so yeah, the long awaited confession of feelings. Any thoughts on that one?  Now, everyone is really wondering where this is going, I think. 

So, yes, chapter 22 ends Part II of the story.  So far, we have covered part I: the beginning and part II: the romance.  Now, we move onto part III [the war]. This is not to say part III will be purely about warfare.  Actually, this story is generally a romance, so at least 3 chapters will be dedicated to war and the rest of how many other chapters there are will be for minor characters, figuring out tactics, and also more self discovery. Remember, this is technically classified under "romance/drama".  So, is there enough drama here for you?  Hm?  Hm?  Hm?

La dee daa, so, that was the anticipated Obon dance—where you really didn't see much dancing anyways.  Oh well. 

Kaede issues:  it was mentioned in a past review [way long ago by the time this is actually posted] that they were having problems with visualizing the 'young Kaede'.  Yes, I can see how you are having problems with that…so sort think of Kaede as an un-annoying version of Rei from SM.  That is about the best I can do character wise.  I know, it is impossible for Rei not to be un-annoying, but what you can you do.  It was the first thing that came to mind.  Maybe…I dunno, oh, uhm…that other miko chick from Love Hina?  Yeah?  Maybe her more…

So, thoughts, questions, commentary, suggestions?  Love to hear from you.  It's discouraging, my fellow fanfic writers agree that PWP's are becoming a bit too popular… [fyi: PWP's= Plot? What Plot? Or…Porn Without Plot]

Feel free to e-mail me at  cappiepost@yahoo.com  I am very nice, I swear, and usually reply promptly unless I am gone for a few days (which would be during my summer vacation which is officially over anyhow)

Or AIM me @:  kantou matsuri or cappiechan  [I swear, I am also nice to talk to here too. But it would be appreciated if you had a profile so I could make sure you weren't an annoying porn-IMer.  God, I just want to kick them!]

Read, review, say "Pikachu!" [have I done that one yet?  If so:  Read, Review, say "Daewoo!"]

Questionnaire:  Okay, who got a little teary eyed??  I sure did!  Gosh, it is so sad.  *sobs*  Noooo…

But hey, don't loose faith.  True love always finds a way.  Ohohohoho!  *pompous laugh*

Sincerely

[cappie]


	23. under the glass moon

Series: Inuyasha

Title: Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

Genre: action/romance/adventure/drama

Rating: pg13

Characters: Inuyasha, Kikyou, Naraku, Hojo

Disclaimers:  I do not own Inuyasha, and any references I make to poetry are not my own as well.

An: This chapter is a weird one, and is going to be rather short in comparison to past ones.  I think, in general, most chapters in part III shall be shorter, because it will be flashes of scenes before the oncoming of the war.  So, instead of the usual 9-12 pages it will probably be 6-9 although I might carry over from time to time.  Anyways, this chapter is strange in that…I don't know, it is another chapter full of revelations, and the introduction to a new character rather late in the story, but nevertheless, it is strange. Naraku is particularly perverted in this chapter, and I attribute this to a book of haiku I bought (I really should have read over the back cover).  This guy who wrote these things was such a…lecher!  I mean, gosh, he talks about very "private" stuff that I shall not mention due to…—well, use your imagination.  Anyways, I figured I might as well use a bit of it for Naraku.  After all, he is so horny all the time anyways, it doesn't really matter!

Warnings: later in the chapter it gets pretty lemony, but no worries, nothing you guys can't handle.  Nothing obscene at all…just…well….you'll see…

Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

The first chapter of Part III

Chapter 23

Under the Glass Moon

The night seemed quiet and subdued compared to the others.  For the past month or so, the evenings were splattered with raindrops and the howl of wind, if not the occasional flash of lightening and boom of thunder.  During those nights hesitation lurked on the wing, it hung in the air like the mists huddled protectively over the rice fields.  The deep evergreen trees closed in about the fortress of Naraku, blocking out the world as though this mountaintop was a room within a large house—and the shoji screens were closed all about.  There was hardly a whisper of another soul, no footsteps, no murmur of voices.  There was only nature and its constant hum, its rhythmic tick, its breaths when it chose to breathe. 

Inuyasha lay reclined against the pagoda that rested on the edge of Naraku's property, overlooking a steep drop and the forest below.  It was a sharp drop, drifting off into nowhere.  It was strangely hypnotic though, the nothingness that possessed it.  The edge drew people to its side, as though realizing the power that unsure footsteps could carry.

Adjusting his position slightly, he sipped at the chilled sake and thought deeply about the situation at hand.  In less than a week he would be going to war against his brother, his one and only blood relative.  It struck him only slightly strange that he should be carrying out such an action, still the fact remained that his brother had yet to pay for the high crimes he had committed those many years ago.

The blood appeared once again in front of his eyes; her body lying there, floating amongst the field of green, how innocent was the picture painted.  The mountains, like those surrounding him, looked quietly on, as they always did, never murmuring a word of condolence.  The world had been cruelly silent that day so long ago—the world had been watching his downfall, and had been for some time now.  Even the stalks of rice growing from the water did not deign to brush his skin; the world saw him as untouchable, a blemish...

He heard the crunch of gravel behind him, and turning ever so slightly, he found that it was Kikyou who was heading his way from across the pavilion.  Her scent greeted his nostrils a moment later; the sweetness of the passion fruit mingled with the deep piney fragrance of cypress.

As Inuyasha watched her stride across the distance that parted them, her steps long and delicate, he found his heart both comforted and wrenched at the same time.  Kikyou was what he had dreamed of and desired for so many years; she was his soul mate.  Yet, the nervous feeling of guilt and anticipation still flooded his body every time he laid eyes on her.  Was Kikyou something sacred that he, one with a bloodstained past, was not allowed to look upon?

Had he forgotten he had a wife, who at this moment in time he had not a clue on her whereabouts?

For that matter, he knew of nobody's existence besides Kikyou, Naraku, Sesshoumaru and his own.  Everyone else beyond the vast lands lay shrouded in mystery, their shapes familiar to him, but intangible no matter how close he became.  Even their voices were but a distant memory in his past.

He would not deny that he felt guilt.  After all, he had strictly disobeyed Miroku's warning and become practically isolated from his people during the prelude to the war.  There was not an inkling in his mind to suggest that his subjects would not obey his command.  He had set about many generals and officers throughout his stay at Naraku's fortress, although most were appointed through long, lengthy letters.  Yet, he insisted, he had done his duty to his people.  It was not as though he had exclaimed the day before the war was about to break out that, "Yes, you will be fighting tomorrow.  You should begin to prepare."

It was not as though their bodies would be torn to shreds without mercy.  Yes, for some, the highest honor they would ever achieve would be to die in battle—and this was not even a guarantee. 

It was not as though he had thrown them to the wolves.  

He told this to himself many a time.

Inuyasha smiled softly and looked at Kikyou who walking into the pagoda and settling herself down, cradled in his arms.  For her, he had risked his life, his honor, his country—and although he loved her with every ounce of his being, he silently wondered: Was she worth it?

Was the past more substantial then the present?

Inuyasha was not sure.

But then of course, he was unsure about so many things.  His emotions towards Kikyou, and his wife Kagome, the faith he held in Naraku, the outcome of the war.

"It is three days away," Kikyou whispered, burying her head against the silks of Inuyasha's garments.  She was warm.  

Lowering his head down so that he could breathe in her distinctive scent, he murmured, "Yes, it is."

Three days away.  For some, an eternity—but to Inuyasha, only a blink of an eye.

His men were ready, as the letters supposedly said, and willing to fight.  There was nothing to fear, all had been assured he would win, especially with Naraku's territory being pivotal in the capturing of his brother's men and fortress.

Inuyasha wished this war to be quick and decisive, like a crack of lightening splitting apart a tree in a storm.

Inuyasha had seen war, oh yes, he had witnessed it many a time before.  He had seen the fear in their eyes, the hot angry tears of defeat and loss and death.  He had witnessed even the most honorable of men being struck down by the most foolhardy soldiers with most blunt of swords.

Yes, he had seen it all.

He had watched as men were split in two, their blood poured out of their bodies like rain from the heavens.  He had watched as men continued to stagger on for a few more seconds, headless, only to collapse to the ground.  He had cried over his lost friends and comrades, he had sobbed for the children who lay dead at the side of the road; their fanciful yukata's stained with brown blood.

He was no novice when it came to war.

It was for this reason that Inuyasha had vowed, whatever the outcome of this battle was to be, that this would be the last war he would enter willingly.  In the future, if he were to be subject to such torment again, he would do so kicking and yelling and brandishing people with the power of his sword.

"Something troubles you…," Kikyou whispered, looking up and running her index finger along his profile.  Her finger pulled on his lips slightly, and lifting her head up, she kissed him softly.  It was not a passionate kiss like those they shared in the darkness of their room, but soft, quiet and mournful.

"Yes," Inuyasha conceded, "But soon it will be over.  There is much to do as it is, and I feel so unprepared and anxious."  His nervousness was as apparent as the red of his hakama against a snowy scene.

"The war?" Kikyou inquired, placing her head against his chest again, closing her eyes.

"Yes.  I am not sure—I do not want people to die, but then again…Sesshoumaru," Inuyasha paused and sighed.  His voice was heavy and thick, the motion had already been decided.  The war was now as inevitable as the snows of winter and the rains of spring; there was no turning back for him, for Kikyou, for anyone.  Yes, death was already inscribed in the stars.

The two were quiet and gazed out at the landscape of blackness.  Behind them lay the light of civilization and before them lay the darkness of the wild.  The darkness was enticing in some way.  To Kikyou and Inuyasha, the darkness had the opposite affects on them.  They were moths, not drawn to the light, but drawn to what not could be easily seen, what could only be imagined; they were drawn to the future.  But their future was death, as was the past.

Neither seemed appealing.

The wind stirred their hair, causing their scents to intertwine for a moment in time.

"Inuyasha," Kikyou whispered cautiously, sitting up now so that she was looking directly into his dark umber eyes.

He did not reply, but instead shifted his gaze towards her.  For the first time that evening Inuyasha became aware of her expression; one that was soaked and fermented in her own sorrow.

"There is something I must tell you…," Kikyou admitted, slowly, carefully, clearly.

Although Kikyou knew the truth when it came to Naraku, she had to make sure that she did not give away too much information.  She could not tell Inuyasha that it was Naraku who killed her, not Sesshoumaru.  That information could wait until a later time, until all could be fixed and she would once again return to…but it was not matter, her destiny lay in the stars.  And who was she to try to move the heavens?

"I died," She began gently, "As you know.  But it was Naraku who brought me back."

Inuyasha was alert now, no longer sighing in a reverie filled with the mangled bodies of war.  He was now, here, in the present; directing all his attention towards the one he loved.

"What do you mean, Naraku? I mean, yes, I had a general idea, but why?" He was confused, angered, ashamed and puzzled.  

Kikyou paused for a long moment as she took Inuyasha's hand and placed it on her cheek.  She buried her face there, against the sharpness of his claws that glinted in the darkness.  For a moment she appeared as though she was about to cry, her tears as unstoppable as a flood.  But the dam of her heart remained intact, as did her strength.

"For you, Inuyasha.  He wanted you to be his ally; he wanted you to be on his side.  He knew if I was brought back that you would do anything."  Kikyou's voice was heavy and full of truth and wisdom, not flightily and sensual like the dark warlord who was experiencing the ultimate pleasures within the privacy of his bedchamber by a girl he would never learn the name of.  Yes, there was strength and sorrow combined as the sunlight combined beautifully with the rain clouds.

He opened his mouth to speak, anger and humiliation etched on his still boyish face.  He was flushed, and embarrassed.  His golden eyes seemed suddenly turbulent as a sea, and the emotion crashed against the rocks of his heart without mercy.

Kikyou brought her hand to his lips.

"No. Wait.  There is more to tell you, and time is scarce and precious here, where he always watches."

Her words were a mystery to him, but he did not question and silently gave in.  Kikyou knew what lay behind the shoji screens while he was content to look away and become distracted by other things; such as his brother and war.  Yes, she could slide open the screens with much more grace and artistry—she could look at their depths with an emotionless face.  Kikyou could see all that he could, but at the same time he could see nothing.

"I am not really alive, you see.  I am alive, yes—but I rely on the souls of the dead to nourish me.  No, wait, let me finish—,"

He had opened his mouth again and then promptly shut it.  His anger was rising as steam did from a kettle of boiling water.  What was this she spoke?  How much happened that he was unaware?  Why was it he who always proved the fool in such matters?  Oh, he could kill, he could be powerful—but his power never seemed to lie with such wisdom that Kikyou held like a treasured comb, tucked away in her ebony hair.

"You see, Inuyasha, I can never truly be alive in this world if Kagome is alive as well."

"What do you mean?"  Kagome…Kagome, his wife.  Kagome who might have been alive.  Kagome who might have been dead.  Kagome, his _wife._

But how was it possible that she knew of her?  Not only had their marriage been minimally publicized, but also he had never spoken to Kikyou of her.  Any emotion he held towards the girl lay locked within his heart, and it would never be opened, not while he had Kikyou.  Kikyou surpassed everything to him; Kikyou was his life and his death.  And what was Kagome?  Kagome was his reality…a reality he did not want to face.  

But that did not change the fact that Kikyou knew of her.  The only other possibility was that it was Naraku who had told her.  Naraku knew he had been married, was that not correct?  Naraku knew what a traitor he was, Naraku knew of his secrets hidden in the dark…

Fear clutched as his heart and an ice was replaced for his blood.  It was only now, amongst the dark, that Inuyasha realized how powerful Naraku truly was.  If the dark lord wished he could throw Inuyasha into jail, or kill him, or ruin his reputation, or…

 "You see, Kagome is the reincarnation of me, and as such, we two cannot realistically live in the same spiritual plane.  Here, now, in the present—it is one or the other.  If Kagome dies, then I return, and if I die, the part of Kagome's soul that I have borrowed will be returned to her."

Kagome was the reincarnation of Kikyou…

The ice would not melt.  It remained there, gripping his body, taunting it, yelling in his ear, bribing it into a pointless anger.

If that was the case then…was all this in vain?  Wasn't this war a farce?  And what of Kagome?  My God, what if she was dead?  What if she had been sold into prostitution!?  What if…!?

But now was not the time or place for what ifs.  What ifs were for tomorrow, or the next day; but now they only proved as hindrances.

"You took part of her soul?"  His voice was irritated, angry and hurt.  He felt foolish, like a child left in a closet—scared of the dark, and too stupid to realize there was a window right next to him.

"To return to your side there was no other option.  Naraku knew this…," Kikyou stopped and paused, her eyes flashing to the shoji screen across the courtyard.  It began to open slowly.

"Please Inuyasha.  Do not ask questions, nor do anything at all.  If Naraku knew you held this information, he would kill me, do you understand?"

Inuyasha looked aghast and very pale.  A cold sweat had begun to form on his brow, as though for the first time he realized how dangerously close to the edge he was, both literally and figuratively.  Before him lay the cliff of fate and behind him laid another of destiny.  Their paths were the same.

"Listen."  She continued, touching his face, causing his eyes, which had been wandering across the courtyard, to remain once again on her face, "When I was first reincarnated, I remembered nothing.  Naraku lied and told me that it was you who had killed me.  I have learned that it was not you, and I remember the love we share.  This emotion that you see now, it is the true and deepest love I feel for you.  In the future, Naraku may try to sway you into killing me by admitting that I had been trying to kill you.  Please, Inuyasha, trust me when I say I will love you beyond the grave."

Inuyasha was ghostly white now and looked at her as though truly seeing her for the very first time.  It was as though during the course of this conversation, she had been reborn, a new person, one that he could touch and know the depth of her emotion.  Yes, she was there, tangible to his fingertips.  He reached out and touched her cheeks, longing to feel her lips against his…but there was no time.

A light sound of crunching gravel began to increment its way across the wide expanse.

He nodded, and closed his eyes as though trying to block out the world.  There were so many things to sort out, so many things to realize—and he had been the fool, thinking that everything was fine and dandy, when in reality it was just hanging on.  The cliffs of past and present called out to him now, their voices full of mockery, full of enjoyment, full of cruelty.  Inuyasha had not a doubt in his mind that Naraku was a traitor and would stab him at his first opportunity.  Yes, Naraku's eyes would appear in the night, by his side, his eyes gleaming as did the blade in his hand.  And would he stop that bolt of lightening from touching him—or would it be as accepted as a summer thunderstorm?  He was unsure…death became him so very well; it seemed, perhaps, it was time for him to wear its colors.  Inuyasha had no doubts about the character of this man; it was only money and land which the lord wished to posses.  But hadn't he known this from the beginning?  Hadn't Miroku?  Yes, it had been his own idiocy that had written his destiny, it had been he who played the foolish hand, and now look where it landed him?  A place he could not even fathom.  If he had allowed Naraku any humanity, it had disappeared, never to return.  It was gone like the winter snow come spring.  

Inuyasha saw for the first time, his eyes unclouded by his own will.  He saw for the first time the true character of Naraku, of Kikyou—he saw the true character of the world.  He saw how grasping it was, always demanding, always demanding.  Always.  

There was to be no rest for him now, not until death, or until the end of the war.  Whichever came first.

"Good evening, you two," Naraku whispered, leaning against the stone columns, his dark curly hair cascading over his shoulders, glistening in the light of the house.

Inuyasha did not reply, for if he had he would have greeted the lord with his sword and parted with the stench of fresh blood on his clothes.

"Good evening," Kikyou whispered, looking up but not really seeing Naraku.  Her eyes were not in focus as was the world.

He, of course, wished her to come to his chamber, as she did every night.  Did this man's hunger never satiate?  Was it always this constant yearning, and desire for the warm flesh of a woman?  Was it always what lay between her legs that he desired, and not her mind, not her emotions, not her thoughts?  

Oh, if Naraku had played his cards right, Kikyou had not a doubt that she would have continued living the lie of ignorance.  If he had answered her questions instead of feeling himself inside her during the night—then perhaps she could have been satisfied.  Perhaps she would have killed Inuyasha, perhaps she would have gone along with his plans.  But Naraku was careless, particularly when it came to women.  He only looked at them when they needed to be disposed of, or carefully arranged in such a way so as to attract the opposite sex.  He did not value their opinion, he did not seek their advice, he did not inform them.

It enraged her.

But she did nothing, except smile and whisper sweet nothings to him in the dark.  No, she was no longer the property of Naraku, she was that of Inuyasha; both during the day and the night.  If she was to be forced to partake in the nightly activities, then it would be Inuyasha she would imagine atop her, and not the grinning smug face of this warlord.  Yes, when he came it would be Inuyasha whispering in her ear, not his groans…

"What is it that you do?"  Naraku inquired as he seated himself down and sprawled himself against the railing.

"We talk of the moon."  Kikyou whispered, gazing up at the nearly whole moon that hung in the darkened night sky like an ornament or lantern from Obon.

"It will be full when we go to war."  Naraku replied absently, his eyes not on the orb, but on Kikyou, his teeth glimmering in the night.  "You will be at the peak of your power."

"Yes," Inuyasha whispered, his voice hallow and lacking conviction.  He did not look at Naraku.

The three remained there, under the glass moon.

"I have composed a poem," Kikyou faltered, trying to take the burden of the conversation upon her shoulders.  Inuyasha had yet to pull himself out of the quagmire of the truth.  She had to change the present so it would not affect her future.  

"Oh?"  Naraku whispered, his sculpted eyebrows rising in amusement.

Leaning forward, he poured himself a shallow glass of sake.  He would not stay long.

_"Clear Cascades,_

_In the waves immaculate_

_The summer moon"_

Inuyasha murmured appreciation, and then admitted, "I too have a poem.  I have thought of it just now."

"Well, quality is not necessarily important.  It is the message that remains true," Naraku admitted, gulping down the sake in one go.  He coughed slightly and his eyes slid to Kikyou.  She pretended to ignore him.  If she was to be part of Naraku's nightly meal, then she would be the most difficult dish to kill before tasting.

Inuyasha cleared his throat, the deepness to his voice having returned somewhat.

_"Even in its scabbard_

_My sword sees you."_

All was quiet, except for the lonely crickets in some high mountain top meadow.  The wind from the east ruffled their hair again, laughing softly through their ears.

"Is that what you will say to Sesshoumaru when you plan to kill him?"  Naraku questioned innocently, though his eyes had lost all merriment.

"No."

*

She awoke dimly to feel the sensation of lips pressed against her own.  For an instant, she thought that it was Inuyasha who lay beside her and has his arms gently wrapped against her bare body.  She returned the kiss, still half asleep, and slowly it deepened.  Kikyou's eyes had yet to open.

But when the kiss ended and she blinked unsteadily into the shadows of the night, she found Naraku looking at her, a strange look of fascination on his features.  It was an expression she had never seen before—a hopeful one, full of innocence, and happiness and joy…

"Kikyou…," he whispered, fingering a piece of her hair and then bringing it to his lips, "I…"

He stopped, and did not continue.  His deep eyes were once again looking at her, his lips were slightly parted, and shifting his position, he leaned atop her and slipped his tongue into her mouth.  It was the gentlest kiss she had ever received in her life—soft and slow and mournful.

Nevertheless, it was Naraku, not Inuyasha who gave her this.

For one night, she had hoped desperately, she would have avoided Naraku's grasp.  However, such was not the case.  How the lord had managed it, she had not a clue.  The last thing she remembered was curling up in Inuyasha's embrace.

Yet now, she was here again, in the room she had come to know so well.  The sight and smell of it sickened her.  It was too clean and too immaculate to be a room that was so used to the nightly use and disturbances.

Kikyou knew what his room normally looked like; a mess of papers, cups, sheets and blankets.  For some strange reason, it was only presentable during the nights that she slept with him.  For those hours they were together, for those interminable hours which brought her no happiness.

In the darkness, she felt him slowly crawl unto of her and tenderly began to undue her yukata.  She grabbed his hand and whispered, "No."

Although she could not see him, she could feel him, pressed against her and ready for action. 

Suddenly, he did not move, he did not breathe—it was as though he had abruptly realized something.  Something very important…

When he spoke again, there was no gentle tone to his voice; his words were dangerous and sharp and poisoned as they so often were, "Do not make Inuyasha awake to a murdered lover."

He withdrew for a second and cast a strange look in her direction, his long hair falling about him.  Although his face was like a mask, there was a strange sparkle and glow in his eyes, as though the moonlight from the shoji screen was caught in tears.

Yet that was insane, Naraku would not cry.  It was a trick, an illusion of the night—Naraku was incapable of such emotions!

"He would suspect; I'm sure of it.  And then, Naraku, he would kill you."  Kikyou whispered her voice full of hatred.

Naraku did not move, but instead sat hunched, his head buried in his hands as though he was about to collapse.  His body shivered and sobbed for but a moment, and slowly, it eased once again he was quiet.

Hoisting herself up silently, Kikyou looked at him almost in concern.  What could be the cause for the problem?  Did her words actually…affect him?

She was back against the futon in a snap, and blinking.  She was shocked as Naraku lay atop her, his hands quietly running through her long hair, his lips trailing up and down her neck.  He stopped, and breathed in deeply as though treasuring her scent, as though holding dear something so far away, something distant and intangible.

His breath warm against her cheeks as his dark, quiet, deep voice inquired, "Oh?  Do you believe so?  Inuyasha, kill me?  My dear Kikyou, he has grown weak—you are a drug to him as you are to many, one that sucks all his energy and time and…and..,"  he paused, and clutched at her body, as if holding on for dear life, "And any piece of mind.  You do not cease from his mind, you are there in the day and the night. You haunt _him._  And there is no escape.  He would not win, nor more so than a praying mantis would have against his wife.  My victory in all cases is inevitable.  You and I, _He_ and I—we will all be connected one day, under me.  You…_you will be mine…Do you understand?"_

He began to undo her cotton yukata, still holding down her hands with his strong arms.  A grin, almost melancholy in appearance, spread across his face, and taking time to lean down into a kiss, he whispered huskily, "I've given up trying to extinguish the fire in my body.  For me, there is no difference between reading, eating or singing; making love is not one thing or the other.  To me, there is only you beneath me.  The other girls are only toys I play with—but all day, it is you who remains on my mind.  It is you who brings my hunger."

He began to trail down her body in kisses, over her collarbone, over her chest, her breast, her torso, her legs…and down…and down…and down….

Kikyou began to cry, but she was helpless, as she always was.  Such was the way of life; such was the way of war.  The strong ruled over the weak, and the weak plotted against the strong.  Who would be the victor?

The swaying pine trees in the painted picture—who would hear the wind howl through their boughs?

Naraku sighed silently to himself—sure of the outcome to the warfare, sure that this prize which lay beneath him would be his until the end—sure of nothing and everything at the same time.  Perhaps that night, for the first time, he held Kikyou close after the deed, and whispered tenderly in her ear as she drifted off to sleep…

*

The morning had dawned with an autumn–like atmosphere.  The light seemed more golden, richer, and sensual.  There was a light wind in the air, just enough to allow the wind bells scattered around the compounds to chime in beauteous tones.  The grass was wet and fresh with thick and heavy dew, almost giving it the impression as though it had rained heavily the night before.  The air itself also seemed crisper, cleaner, and more pure than Inuyasha had remembered it to be.  Although he had awoken to find Kikyou absent, he had grown accustomed to this.  Usually, she rose before him and breakfasted by herself.  She would then return to the main dining hall in time to welcome Inuyasha and Naraku who would usually sleep in until nine o'clock.  Both were similar in this regard.

When he opened the shoji screen that led to the dining room, Inuyasha was mildly surprised to find that the room was already occupied.  Not only was Kikyou sitting placidly looking out the window, but Naraku was chewing on a piece of pickled melon rind chatting amiably with another person he had never before laid eyes on.

The man was handsome in a boyish way, with sandy colored hair and rather fair skin.  From his scent, Inuyasha knew immediately that the man was no youkai, or hanyou for that matter.  The mysterious stranger was human.

_The most normal one out of us,_ Inuyasha thought darkly as he closed the screen behind him.

The three looked up, and Kikyou's cheeks immediately flushed for some indescribable reason.  Naraku on the other hand, looked up and smirked in his arrogant way, and welcomed, "Ah, Inuyasha, come and join us."

As if he had any other choice.

Nodding, he seated himself automatically next to Kikyou and watched as a mysterious servant entered into the room and presented him with the normal miso soup, rice, natto, and grilled fish.  The tea was already on the table, still steaming.

Pouring himself a cup, he sniffed it questionably. 

"Seasame seed tea?" he questioned absently as he sipped it.

Nobody made a reply, but all watched him intently.

Stirring the natto slightly with a pair of dark stained chopsticks, he applied some to the top of his rice and began to mix it together.  Chewing contently (Inuyasha hadn't realized how hungry he was until this moment) he looked from Kikyou to Naraku and finally to the mysterious young gentleman who was seated across from him, smiling curiously.

Suddenly, the young man flushed and scooted back from the table and sank down into a ridiculously low and formal bow.

"Excuse me for my ignorance, Inuyasha-sama!"  He explained hastily, the tips of his ears had gone red.

Blinking, Inuyasha raised his eyebrows in question and looked to Naraku to provide an explanation.  Inuyasha was aware of the sharp glint in Naraku's eyes as they turned towards him.

"Ah, forgive my rudeness; I did not introduce you two."  Naraku waved breezily, a fan in one hand.  He bit on the tip of it for a moment, and then continued on, a smug grin resting on his handsome features, "This, Inuyasha, is your colonel, Hojo."

It took Inuyasha a moment to register that this must have been the one who he had appointed through long and lengthy letters.  Looking at him in a different light, Inuyasha found it rather hard to believe that this man could have partaken in the amount of war he had described.  The boy hardly looked over nineteen, and innocence still shone in his carefree eyes.

"I am not what you had expected?"  Hojo laughed nervously, his face still flushed and full of anticipation.  

  
Inuyasha coughed slightly, lowered his eyes, and admitted truthfully, "No, you were not."

Naraku chuckled a low and dark laugh and added, "Yes, indeed. I do have to admit that I was shocked when I saw him arriving at the gate this morning.  Yet, his papers do check out, as does his birth certificate, so we must assume that he is who he claims to be."

Inuyasha glared at Naraku for a moment before turning his eyes once again to Hojo.  He found himself smiling as he spoke, "I am sure that Hojo will prove himself in the battlefield."

Kikyou, speaking for the first time, whispered softly, "One cannot tell whether a person is good or bad by his vicissitudes in life.  Good and bad fortunes are matters of fate..."

Hojo's face reddened slightly and looked down into his lap and murmured, "I hope to prove to you my strength, Inuyasha-sama."

Outside, the wind picked up, the bell dancing in the current causing it to chime throughout the room.  Its echo died almost immediately, as though the dining chamber sucked up all sounds and all memories of the past.  The teapot continued to steam merrily in the center of the room, the steam drifting out towards the open shoji screen that led to the garden.  Even the steam wished to be rid of this room, be rid of the atmosphere.

The war was in two days now.  Slowly, time danced about them, a slow and sorrowful dance.  Yes, two more nights…two more nights under that glass moon…

And would it shatter?                                        

***

**

*

natto: steamed soybeans fermented in straw with a slimy consistency.  It is eaten, mixed with soy sauce, mustard or minced green onions. 

AN: For some reason, that chapter, although IY/K/H/ and N filled seemed very…I don't know, poetic. I must have been in a really good mood when I wrote that chapter, or else really inspired.  I don't know then, eh?  

Anyways, hope you enjoyed this chapter, the first part to Part III of the Shoji Saga!! YAyyy!

You know the drill:

cappiepost@yahoo.com

AIM: cappie chan/ kantou matsuri

read, review, say "niyuusu!"

-cappied, if not the occasional flash of lightening and boom of thunder. e element in 


	24. stumbling in the dark

Series: Inuyasha

Title: Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

Rating: pg13

Genre: romance/drama/action/mystery

Main characters: Rin/Shippou/Sango/Miroku/Kouga gumi

Disclaimers: Inuyasha is not mine, at all, or in the least.  I only pay a humble homage to Takahashi-sensei's work.

AN: I hate this chapter. I really do…that is why I have done a "double post", just to save your sanity. Please read it. Don't hate me. You might like it. I love you all. Just READ the damn thing. ;) thanks. Have a nice day.

*

Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

Chapter 24

Stumbling in the Dark

Their travels, up to this point, had been as unpredictable as the weather.  With the rain came small floods, landslides and days sitting within small and gloomy caves.  At the time the experiences had been a thorn in their sides, detaining them from the mission at hand.  Time was constantly their enemy, battling against them and winning at nearly every occasion.  Weather laughed and spat in their faces and pelted them with rain and lightening.

Perhaps time had grown uninterested with them.  Perhaps it was their perseverance which now seemed so boring, for there was no detaining them in the journey.

The two had managed to buy a bit of tofu from the last town they had passed through.  It proved to be good quality, firm and fit for browning.  The scent wafted up now, through the needles and branches of the pine trees and towards the heavens.  The surface of one of the sides was a deep golden brown with small lumps appearing every now and then on its surface.  

Rin, having just finished turning over the tofu with a stick she had found and cleaned earlier, sat back on the stone and smiled contentedly to herself.

_This is life._

Memories of her childhood flashed vaguely in front of her eyes, like shadows rapidly disappearing in the growing twilight.  There had been happy moments such as these, hadn't there?  There was the browning of tofu, laughing, and merriment—or were these things all an illusion she had created?

Rin did not know.

The golden afternoon sun shone through the leaves causing dappled patterns on the soft and green forest floor.  A few late flowering plants were in full bloom in these patches of sunlight, affording the best view of the sky and the heavens to which they could manage.  The day had grown clear after the morning fog had parted, leaving the day balmy and comfortably warm. 

Yet autumn, like so many other things, was on the wing.  All that remained now was the predicted rains from China.  Yet hopefully, hopefully, she would reach Sesshoumaru's estate by then.  Those rains were her ultimatum, as was the moon in the sky.  Every night as it waxed towards the full, a fear grasped at her heart and would not let go.

Leaning farther back so that she looked up directly into the sunlight and the speckled leaves and needles, Rin let out a satisfied sigh.  It seemed strange; she thought to herself, that she could be so happy when her purpose of the mission was so sinister and imperative.

Blinking in surprise, she grinned as Shippou peered over her, his hazelnut eyes large and dilated as though he had just finished walking through some dark corner of the forest.  His cheeks were flushed, but he was grinning broadly from ear to ear.  Yes, their journey was dark—but she could not live in the dark, she had to have sunshine, like Shippou, to keep her going.  She had to remember happiness as she moved towards sorrow.

"Hello, Shippou," Rin greeted to him, sitting up and turning to look directly at him.  She giggled at the sight.  He was really quite adorable, being drenched in water and its weight causing his ears and tail to limp.  He was grinning softly now, his eyes dancing before her in a way they did occasionally. 

"I take it you caught the fish?" Rin questioned, adding sweetly, "Or did you become one?"

Shippou took this opportunity to shake himself dry, causing millions of droplets of water to fall onto her, and eventually absorbed by Rin's skin and clothing. Yet, at this moment, her face was full of rivers of the water and her light yukata clung limp to her skin, accentuating what would normally not be seen beneath the thin cotton layer.

Turning quickly away after giving her a quick appraisal of the damage and noticing the effects, Shippou began to devote his attention to the food while successfully ignoring the onslaught of exasperated sighs.

But he could not look away.  Glancing up at Rin unconsciously, Shippou found his gaze mesmerized to the spot.  His feet seemed glued to the ground, a look of astonishment and revelation washing over his skin like a warm breeze from the south.  

_Believe in the man facing you now_

_Just narrow your eyes_

The way in which the late afternoon beams of sun hit her glistening body caused a small translucent layer to glow around her, giving the appearance of something that should not have been allowed on earth, due to the brilliance in its every essence.

For a single moment, it was only them and the golden sunlight—gleaming like a pebble under an illuminated beach.  There were only their eyes, and the depths and secrets that each held.  For that instant there was only longing and hope against the odds, there was only the unspoken, the hidden. Their moment was a short lived as the pause between the first and second drops of a rain storm.

And then, like the rain, all poured down.  One by one, faster and faster until it was all a large blur, the picture, the eyes, the sun, the moment obstructed.

As the two stood, transfixed to the very spot, the sound of loud voices broke through the serenity of the calm forest.  The sound of gruff male voices approaching at great speed reached them off guard.  Shippou's ears swiveled in alarm, and lunging for the branch of a mulberry bush, he hastily grabbed a leaf and tackled Rin, pushing her to the forest floor.  For one brief and tender moment, they lay quiet, their breathing heavy, and their cheeks aflame—but it passed, as did everything.  With a gentle 'poof' it was no longer Shippou who rested comfortably atop her, but a dark and dimly lit area that looked like the inside of a hollow rock.

As she lay there, huddled into a fetus position, Rin remembered suddenly that Shippou was no ordinary human, but instead a youkai with powers she could only wish for.  She could hear his voice whispering gently in her ear, yet his face was not present, only a familiar and comfortable warmth from his body heat.  She blushed and was thankful for the darkness.

"Stay still…and try not to breathe," he instructed strictly from his position caught like a fly between time and space.

Nodding, Rin slowed and quieted her rapid breaths and calmly opened her eyes.

A few moments later, the sound of crunching pine needles and leaves could be heard followed by a, "Oh, someone is cooking something?"

From farther away, a softer and deeper voice questioned, "Oh?  Really?  Anything good?"  His accent seemed more formal compared to the first, as though it was not the country but the town in which he had spent his childhood.

"Fish and tofu," another voice from in front of the first voice commented.  The sound of sniffing followed.

"Yeah," snorted another voice, tramping through the fallen leaves, "That sounds _real_ good…god, I could use another stew."

"Stew…" the first voice whispered quietly in awe, as though the idea of stew itself was holy in some way.

The softer and deeper voice offered, "I could make some, if you want.  Though, I don't suggest that we take the fish and tofu from whom ever was here earlier.  I thought I saw some wild onions a way back, and if you catch some fish, I could have the stew ready by sundown."

Rin, as she remained perfectly still in the small cave that Shippou had created with his body, thought that the deeper voice seemed more educated and hardly as gruff and wild as the other two.  She was rather interested in the soft-voiced man, surely he could not be a mercenary bent to kill someone they came across in the woods.

The voices died and the crunching of needles and twigs faded into the warm softness of the late afternoon.  And yet, still, Shippou did not transform back until five minutes had passed.  Before he did so, he questioned, his voice materializing out of mid air, "Do you think it is safe?"

Rin squirmed a bit, it felt like the rock was closing in on her and her legs had fallen asleep from huddling in the position for so long.  Her yukata had also come slightly undone as well, and she was too cramped to try to fix it under the blanket like structure that Shippou had transformed into.

"Yes.  They have been gone for about five minutes, after all."  Her voice was a little more impatient than she had intended.

Shippou did not transform back, but instead continued to whisper, "You did not sense it because you are human, but those were wolf youkai…and they have very powerful noses. I wouldn't be surprised if they noticed me."

Rin sighed and insisted, "Shippou.  Transform back right now, I'm suffocating."

A sigh, and then: 'poof'.

Looking up, she found that Shippou had fallen on top of her and was sprawled across most of her body.  It didn't help that the breast to her yukata was beginning to become unfastened.

The two looked up at each other, waiting for the other to move; and perhaps for probably the second time, Rin was struck by the multitude of colors present in his eyes. 

And then…

Someone coughed.  And it wasn't Shippou or Rin.

The two swerved their heads in shock, and saw that two men were leaning against a particularly ancient pine tree some three meters away.  One of them wore the garments of a traveling monk, his metal staff leaning causally against the bark of the tree.  His hair was slicked back and tied into a neat ponytail with only a few strands escaping its grasp around the edges.  His eyes were slightly droopy which gave him a pleasant and amiable look.  The sly grin on his mouth only added to this personification—yet, it was a common fact that some of the most dangerous of travelers played the mask of kindness so well that nearly all that crossed their path could not resist their charm.

The second man was slouched casually against the tree, his hair long and luxurious, although rather uncombed and unruly.  His eyes were deep and dark, and were set into his face at such an angle that it gave him an extremely cunning look.  Like the man who sat next to him, there was a lazy grin swept across his features, although the grin that looked kind, looked devious on the other.  The second man with the unruly hair was dressed in a mixture of animal skin and woven fabric, all worn soft and comfortable though much use.

The second man shouted, "Took you long enough!"

Rin and Shippou still hadn't moved from their provocative position, yet now they stood up quickly and brushed themselves off, their cheeks aflame.  Yet they wasted no time in demanding answers from the two men.

"What do you mean, 'took you long enough'!?" Shippou snarled bitterly; rather angry at himself because he had not realized that the two men were sitting so close.  Against his will he had become distracted as he looked at Rin's huddled figure in the dark.

"You didn't know we were there?"  The second man with unruly hair continued, chuckling to himself, "And you're a fox youkai?"

"Now, now, Kouga," the first man in the monk attire spoke for the primary time, "There is no reason to tease the young.  As you can see, we have put them ill at ease."

"Especially," the second man's eyes flickered to the girl who was pulling nervously at her yukata, "the female."

The first man snorted, shrugged and ran his hands through his tied-up hair.

"What do you want?"  Shippou demanded angrily, stepping in front of Rin to block any attack that might issue forth.  He did this unconsciously.

"The use of your fire, perhaps," The first man with the tied back hair replied smoothly, adding, "Making one is so cumbersome."

Shippou blinked at the reply.  He had not expected such an answer.  Who were these people?

Suddenly, his ears began to swerve violently as the traces of footsteps began to issue forth from the same general direction as before.

"I hope you guys caught some good fish, not like the minnows we had for dinner last night!"  The second man with unruly hair yelled, still not standing, although the subjects to which he was directing his conversation had yet to appear.  

Rin and Shippou did not say a word, but watched in bewilderment as ten other men materialized quite suddenly out of the low lying brush.  Many of them had the general look of the second man; long unruly hair, pelts for clothing, and a lean, hardened look to their features which made them seem humble and amiable as well as bitter and malicious.

They were quiet as the entered into the circular space and looked from Rin and Shippou to the unruly haired man.

The men were quiet and motionless and waited.

They all knew when to talk, and when to remain quiet; Kouga had taught them that much.

"So," said Kouga, rising from the ground, munching nonchalantly on an apple that his counterpart has offered him earlier, "You're a kistune youkai, hm?"

Shippou stiffened, and stood up straighter as though trying to seem older than he was in reality.  His eyes were large and dilated; however, they gave away his underlying emotion: that of fear.

"And what is it to you?"  He bristled, his tail nearly standing on end, growing rather bushy.

Kouga continued to munch, and the first man, Miroku, who had been seated with him earlier, withdrew from a knapsack he had a small pot and a knife and began to peel potatoes.

"Nothing really," Kouga replied smoothly, flashing a devilishly handsome grin towards Rin who was giving him death glares. "Just curious.  I mean, after all, there are many different types of ways you can torture kistune.  I love it when their tails get fluffy when they are scared."

The men chuckled at this remark.

Plops came as sweet potato chunks began to fall into the pot as Miroku carefully peeled them, glancing up every now and then, grinning in amusement or pity.

"Why you—!" Rin growled, lunging towards Kouga, her fists ready to punch him in a variety of particularly sensitive spots.

Shippou, however, stepped in front of her and whispered seriously, "No, Rin."  Although Shippou was still a young youkai, this was not to say he was not tall or well built or strong.  Perhaps Shippou's only downfall was that he was still wet behind the ears.  Oh, yes, he knew how to defend himself from years of martial arts training as well as honing in his youkai skills—yet experience had yet to give him that weathered and confident look to his shining eyes.

"Ah?"  Kouga questioned amusedly, still circling the two, "Rin _chan, is it?"_

The group chuckled at this remark as well.

Kouga, opening his mouth to speak promptly closed it and turned quite sharply to see that another member to the party had joined the group and voiced her opinion upon arrival.

"Kouga, that's enough.  Leave them alone."

It was Sango who was leaning against a crutch and resting against the side of a pine tree which Kouga had been formerly relaxing against.

Kouga turned on her and snapped angrily, "Keep out of this, wench!"

Miroku's eyes turned stormy, and from his hunched position on the ground, he looked up suddenly and warned, "I would not use such language, if I were you."

Kouga opened his mouth to say something, but then promptly shut it in anger and indignation.  His eyes simmered, however, and narrowed.

Although being told what to do was something that Kouga despised above anything else in the world, he did have to admit it was one thing to be told by an inferior than by some one he admired.  Sango was a strong and brave woman who could handle the conviction of her words—she could handle some of the strongest of storms, as was already proven by a number of incidents having occurred on the journey.

Turning towards the fox demon (who was quivering like a dried leaf of winter) and the girl who stood behind him, he snorted and growled impatiently, "Move aside you two."

The 'two' did not budge, but instead stood resolutely.  Between them lay the fire that was beginning to die down.

"No," Shippou insisted, stepping closer to Kouga's form that slouching at ease.

"Oh?"  Kouga snorted bitterly, flexing his claws and running his nails against his jaw line which was in slight need of a shave.

"We were here first."  Rin insisted from behind him, her large eyes glowering angrily into Kouga's lackadaisical expression.

Sango was now moving towards the two, though still closer to Kouga.  Her breath was not quick and shallow, so there seemed to be no apparent ailment to her form.  It was for this reason that Shippou and Rin found it odd that she should be relying on the crutches.

"We are terribly sorry to have troubled you," Sango began, a gentle smile resting on her tired, if not pretty, features, "But we have come a long way and still have much farther to go this evening.  It would save us at least an hour and a half if we could use your fire."

Shippou glared from the woman to the wolf youkai, an angry, bitter and decisive expression in his eyes.  He didn't for the life of him trust this wolf youkai, or any of his henchmen.  Yet, the woman and the man who was now slicing onions (having finished the potatoes), seemed very much different from the two.  It was as though they were from a cultured place and had suddenly happened upon the youkai by chance and decided to accompany them.

"I…," Shippou began testily, his eyes narrowed slits of umber.

"Why didn't you say so in the first place!"  Rin insisted from behind him, now stepping up so that she now lay in front of him perhaps a foot or so.  Her usual radiance and cheerful quality had returned, and Shippou was not sure whether to be intrigued or annoyed by her innocent conduct of character.

"Rin…," Shippou began through his grated teeth, reaching out a hand to pull her back to his side.

"We are travelers ourselves, so we understand how long it takes to get a fire started," Rin continued, completely oblivious to Shippou.

The other members of this foreign group seemed startled as well, as though they had never met such a bubbly or trust worthy girl, especially out in the middle of the wild.  A few of the men were murmuring amongst them selves, and nearly everyone else was blinking in apprehension.  Even the woman seemed rather astonished by Rin.

"Do you need any help at all?"  She called to the man who was slicing onions, "We were planning on camping here for the night, so we have no rush to get going unlike you."

Miroku, looking up from the onions, his eyes heavily infected with tears, sniffled, "If it is not a burden."

After all, he was cutting onions.

Rin, rushing forward, a smile permanently plastered on her features gushed, "Why, it's no trouble at all!  I can improve my cooking skills which are already lacking.  Poor Shippou, he has had to put up with my food during the duration of the trip!"

Shippou coughed and looked down at the forest floor littered with pine needles.  A flush was creeping up the back of his neck.

Kouga smirked as he watched Rin chatter amiably with Miroku.  A moment later, he commented to Sango as he squatted down and poked at the fire with a stick before adding some pine needles, "Well, as they say.  Do no evil, but do much good."

Sango laughed gently as she placed the tofu and fish large leaves from a nearby mulberry bush and walked over towards Shippou.

*

By the time the stew had been served and prepared, the group had some how managed to form a primitive sort of respect and friendship.  This was due mainly in part to Miroku, Rin and Sango who were determined that there was to be no bloodshed.  The group of ten sat around the dying fire and held soft and low conversations.  Although, from time to time, Kouga could not help but tell a bawdy joke causing the men to erupt into laughter while Rin and Sango flushed in embarrassment.

"Boys will be boys," Sango sighed, resting her face in her palms as she tried to cover the color that had bloomed on her cheeks.

Rin had just gulped and nodded.

It was now dark, and all members of each party were too tired to continue on that day.  The stars from the heavens had begun to peak out from behind the great towering trees, and occasionally sparks rose up into the shadowy night, as though they searched for paradise.

Many of the men had retired to the far corners of the meadow and were snoring softly in the grass or leaning against a fallen log.  The crickets had begun to sing, a soft sweet and lulling song that tugged at peoples eyelids causing them to droop.  Only five remained awake at this moment; those which held a secret bond though all were unaware of this connection.  Their connection was the brotherhood: to destroy the one person that had caused them, or loved ones, so much pain; Naraku.

Kouga and Shippou continued to glare at one another from time to time, having never actually forgiven or accepted the other.  Sango and Miroku ignored them and listened to Rin who was telling them a story that her instructor had recited her some time ago.  When that ended and all had laughed, the group remained quiet as they sipped at cups of weak tea.

A few minutes later, Miroku, who had been quiet most of the night, recited, 

_"Lone moon, no clouds, we stumble through the night."_

All looked at him in some trepidation, and Sango questioned curiously, "Did you come up with that right now?"

Miroku chuckled, finished his tea and poured himself another cup, "No.  Not in the least."

He seemed content to leave it at that, though all in the group found the answer dissatisfactory.  Rin, voicing a question very softly (for she had grown drowsy by this point in time) inquired, "Who wrote it then, Miroku-san?"

The advisor turned to look at the girl, his eyes strangely sad in the mixture of moonlight and firelight.  A smile hung at his lips, but heavily so, as though it brought him pain to think of a memory so fondly.  It was lack of hope that seemed to overwhelm him.

"A friend of mine, Kagome-sama."

Sango nodded, having had heard the tale before.  She was not jealous that he remembered the poem, not in the least.  For, Miroku pointed out, it was one of the few private things he had been able to learn about Kagome in the short time he had stayed with her.  

Although, he had explained, Kagome was a very cheerful and open person by nature, there were points during the day in which she would become subdue and anxious.  In the morning, he had explained, she would be bright and chipper and willing to take all battles that were presented to her and even those that weren't.  Yet by the time late afternoon rolled around, the prison-like quality of her situation had had time to seep and ferment within her.  So, when Miroku did have a moment to spare, it was usually in the afternoon, which was the time, of course, when she chose to retire to her room.  Miroku had always wished to befriend Kagome, for the reason he felt because she needed a friend.

"Lady Kagome?"  Rin questioned, moving slightly, her voice more awake now, as though that name had triggered something within her.  "Lady Kagome…"

Sango, looked towards Rin, "Do you know of her?"

Rin remained quiet for a moment, her eyes gazing unfocused into the flame.  But suddenly they cleared, like the moon reappearing during the eye of the storm.

"Yes, I thought that name sounded familiar," she confided, absently watching as Kouga adjusted his posture and sprawled out against the log yawning loudly.  "She must be the woman who is staying with Sesshoumaru-sama."

For a moment, all was quiet.  It was brief, like a flash of lightening.  There and gone before you had time to realize its existence.

"Kagome-sama?  Of the Higurashi family?" interrogated Miroku, leaning towards Rin, his eyes wide, his mouth slightly hanging open in shock.

"Well, yes, I do believe so.  She was married to Inuyasha, was she not?"  Rin questioned hesitantly, leaning against Shippou slightly for support. She did this unconsciously and Shippou glanced down at her, rather startled.  Miroku and Sango had turned rather frightening, their eyes wide, their mouths open, an incredulous and half crazy look in their eyes.

"She still is," Miroku explained hurriedly, "And you say that she is staying at Lord Sesshoumaru's?"

"Wasn't that Inuyasha's brother?"  Sango questioned.

"He still is," Miroku sighed, running his hands anxiously through his hair, "But this is not what we had planned for at all!  We had expected her to be at Naraku's fortress.  At least we have vague idea where that is, but Sesshoumaru's—his abode is hardly known of by outsiders!"

"Why do you wish to find Kagome-sama?"  Shippou demanded, although gently.

"We wish to bring her back, of course!  You do realize she has been kidnapped, do you not?"  Sango whispered dubiously.

"No, Sesshoumaru-sama would never do that!" Rin insisted vigilantly, her words full of spite, anger and fury.  She was standing now, her undone hair gleaming in the firelight, her eyes full of the flames of the fire itself.  Kouga watched her quietly, but said nothing.  His eyes merely reflected her glow.

The two were rather taken aback by her change of character, and promptly closed their mouths and looked up at her expectantly.  It was now, however, Shippou's turn to gaze in awe at Rin.  Although he had known her only for a period of three months, he had never expected this much strength of spirit to be present in her.

"He would never do that," She insisted, her eyes watery.  Rin bit on her lip slightly, and waited.

Miroku was the first to speak; his voice hushed, humble and hollow, "But, Rin, how is it that you know of Sesshoumaru's conduct?  By nearly all accounts I have heard the man is ruthless, cruel and wicked."

Rin stepped forward and swung her arm, her hand connecting with Miroku's face, the sound echoing through the night.  She had slapped him.  Kouga jumped up from his position on the log, ready to pounce.  Shippou stood up as well, but only because Kouga had done so.  He did not trust the youkai at all.

Miroku had not moved, his face pointed downwards, looking towards the ground, the imprint of her hand still fresh against his placid features.  Sango had said or had done nothing of the sort; instead, she looked up at Rin in a mixture of fascination and astonishment—as though pieces from a long forgotten puzzle were finally fitting into place.

"Never say such things about Sesshoumaru-sama!"  Rin whispered fiercely, her tears hot and full of anger, "Do not judge someone you only presume the worse of."

Miroku's form was still, except for the slow movement of his lips, as he formed the words, "Forgive me then."

The crickets sang sweetly, the trees swayed in the night breeze.

The five were quiet, all gazing from one to another.  Shippou glaring at Kouga, Kouga staring at Rin in amazement, Miroku looking towards the pine needled covered ground, Rin glowering at Miroku, her eyes full of tears, and finally Sango who was looking up at Rin.

"You know him then…," Sango whispered softly.

Rin swerved her head towards Sango and admitted, "Yes."

"And Sesshoumaru would not kidnap…" she continued.

"No.  He would never do something so dishonorable."  Rin gulped, angrily rubbing away the tears from her eyes.

"Then it must have been Naraku.  It must have been he…," Sango paused, and bit her fingernail apprehensively.  Her eyes were darting like the movement of a sparrow, or the hopping of a cricket.  Finally, she conceded, "If what you say is true, then Kagome must have been kidnapped, not by Sesshoumaru; no, it must have been Naraku, though he planted her at Sesshoumaru's fortress."

Rin's eyes grew wide and the epiphany fell atop her with the full force of a galloping horse.  Yes, it all made sense now!  At first when she had heard the information a three month ago, she had found it strange that her guardian should allow another human female into his fortress.  Yet, if it had been Naraku's plot to plant her at Sesshoumaru's compounds…and lure Inuyasha…

"My God…," she breathed her voice thick and full of electricity like the oncoming storm. 

Clouds billowed in the distance, and some twenty miles away, the dim roar of thunder could be heard.  Above, however, the night was clear, calm and contemplative—there was not even an inkling of what lay behind the next range of mountains.

"Yes, Naraku…his plan is more cunning than all could have imagined," Miroku whispered darkly, rubbing his cheek in pain.

"What fools we have all been," Sango swore bitterly, "Stumbling about in the dark.  What fools…"

***

**

*

AN: …read? Review? Onegai shimasu??


	25. arms about the future

Series: Inuyasha 

Title: Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

Genre: romance/action/adventure/drama

Rating: pg13

Chapter main characters:  Sesshoumaru and Kagome

AN:  So, that chapter with Shippou/Rin/Kouga/Miroku/ect was rather a disappointment in my opinion. Yet, it was one of those chapters which had to be written, and one that I was completely stumped on. But, nevertheless, it had to be done, it had to be done.  Anyways, our first Sesshoumaru and Kagome related chapter in part three!  Although there won't be as many between them in part three, the ones which do arrive, are very full of tension, and action, and other things that will remain shrouded in mystery.

Warnings: slight Sesshie-chan's OOCness

Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

Chapter 25

Arms About the Future

Leaning against the cool wooden walls of the pagoda teahouse on the shores of Lake Suruzan, Kagome thought softly to herself;

_Those who do not accept the future are thrown aside and left in the past._

Such was true of her, she realized as she gathered her hair and looked down at it.  The ends were glimmering in the morning sunlight, the black shade consisting of all the colors of the rainbow.  It was strange, she had always thought, that the darkest dye would consist of so many bright colors.

Sitting discontentedly down on a cushion, she dipped her calligraphy brush in the fountain of ink, and hung it over the piece of parchment tentatively.  She wanted to create a work of art which expressed the emotions she was feeling at this moment.

_A ginkgo leaf fell into the water, many ripples did it make.                      _

Such was how she felt—she was an inanimate object falling through space, finally reaching something material, something substantial.  In other words, she had found her purpose on that lantern filled night.  She had found what she had been and what she was to become.  Yet, in all honesty, Kagome admitted to herself, she had found two purposes on that night.

One of these purposes was as impossible as warm rain on a bitter New Year's evening.  To allow herself to love, or even care for Sesshoumaru would only mean heartbreak later on; and to allow herself to fall captive to his presence—where would it take her?  Only on a never ending journey of tears and hellish nights spent in solitude.  She would rue it all…all of it…

No, she insisted, she would allow her emotions to remain bottled inside her.  Perhaps then, at a later date, she could uncork them and savor the flavor like a fine wine.  At that distant time, perhaps her heartbreak would not seem as great and as painful as it felt now.

After all, Kagome thought bitterly, the one thing in life that people could count on was change.  For some time now, Kagome had felt a difference in the air about her, as though her time amongst the hills of Sesshoumaru's fortress were soon drawing to an end.

If she could just hold out a little longer, then perhaps her heart would not disintegrate into nothing.

After all, within days, there would be war.

Yes, until the winds changed, it was best to play innocent and to forget as soon as possible.

That was unfeasible. To forget—no, that was unachievable. Kagome would never forget…

For these reasons she cried every night, the shadows of her tears seemingly etched against the surrounding shoji screens.

Closing her eyes, she lay down the calligraphy brush and looked out onto the lake, now in dark shades of green and surrounded by slightly yellowing grass. Deep summer had arrived at last. It had not rained in a week, yet she had heard that sometime within the next few days an unpredicted rainstorm would arrive in country brought over from China 

This did not surprise her.  Such unpredictable rainstorms happened every few years, causing the agricultural world to go into uproar—for the young and inexperienced had begun to return to their crops to soon, only to find that this unpredictable rain would wash away their hopes.

Kagome wished her hopes would wash away.  She wished she would just accept that fact that to love Sesshoumaru was something impossible—she wanted to convince herself that everything was impermanent, like the life of a newborn child.  Sometimes it lived, other times it did not.  All things were a matter of chance for those too innocent to make choices.

Taking out another piece of parchment, Kagome continued to argue with herself—it was not as though she was too innocent to make choices, but in reality she could make none.   Because she was female, the decisions were not allowed to be made. Her choices would only come later—after the war had begun, after the death and despair began to permeate throughout the country side.

She felt restless and ill at ease. 

Looking out towards the lake, a small smile blessed her features.  Her lips turned up, and suddenly the storm which had been brewing in her eyes disappeared. The silver chaotic clouds lifted, and suddenly it was a bright blue day once again.

The brown grass near the edge of the pine forest had the appearance of a baked umber and golden glaze that was applied to pottery.   

*

He could feel it.  War was in the air like the soon-to-be arriving rains from China.  It was heavy and unbearable and intense—the electricity ran through the countryside with the same stimulating power as lightening.  A flood would emerge, a flood of rain and blood mixing together as one and being taken willingly by the earth.  Would she know the difference?

Somehow, this year's war seemed different from those in the past, considered Sesshoumaru as he gazed out at his glazed, blue tile roofs.  Their surfaces glimmered in the sun like the earth after a fresh rainstorm—though a slight layer of dust was apparent in their sheen.  It was not as though this war would be any less important—no; in fact, this war would be the one that decided Inuyasha's fate, as well as his own.

If he lost, however inconceivable that was, what would happen?  Would Inuyasha take ownership of his lands and take everything away that he treasured?  Would this include Kagome, if she was to be discovered?

Often times, Sesshoumaru found it difficult to believe that she was married.  She still possessed that fire, that fighting spirit, that determination…and soon, eventually, as time went by, it would diminish under the hanyou's hands.  How ironic it was that the one treasure which could surpass all former desires would be owned, legally, by his half brother?

The sword seemed not important anymore.  For all he cared, Inuyasha could have both swords—for indeed, life seemed so pointless nowadays.  It was as though everything he lived for, the battle, the blood, the power, the fight, the chase—had all disappeared.

Closing his eyes he blocked out the world and listened to it breathe.  The chirp of a bird in the far off trees, the rush of water from the mountain stream, the low whispers of the servants in the kitchen, the rustle of the wind through the pine needles…

To him, this was the pinnacle of his existence.  It was no longer to mitigate his way through countless wars and battles.  Perhaps he was getting older, or dull; perhaps he no longer possessed that ruthlessness which he was so famed for…or, perhaps his desires had changed.

Was Kagome what his red string of fate was connected to, and not Tetsusaiga?  Was the damn piece of metal the definition of his being?  Or was it, in reality, her?  Was it she who would decide his destiny—or their destiny, if there was to be such a thing?  More over, did she wish for such a life?  A life built upon lies and guilt and deceit against the backdrop of his blood smeared past and present?  Could Kagome accept that she was married to his half brother and that he, Sesshoumaru, was one of the most well known killers throughout Japan?

Was he content to live his life amongst the trees—with her?  Would he find happiness with her in his arms?

Somehow, without even answering, he knew the answer.

But such was not their fate…for indeed, no matter how much each desired the other; the world would get in the way as it always did.  If it was not war, or Naraku, or Inuyasha—it would be the laws of human and the shame and disgrace which forever would follow them in life.

He remembered now the reason he had decided against love when he was very young; it only brought a hollow despair.

These ideas of romance and happiness were tempting in their ideals, but in reality, it was but a wax apple that hung on the branch.

His eyes remained closed in order to see.  To really look at the world it was meant to be looked at; not at all.

Yet, as the world swam about him, a certain sound would not diminish.  He had not noticed it before, but it was present now, like the sudden burst of cool air that accompanied autumn…

The air was sliced again and again with that sound…the continual thump, the pause, the tension, the slice, the thump, the pause…

Opening his eyes once more, Sesshoumaru heaved a sigh and went out into the pavilion to examine from whence the sound originated.

It was now late afternoon, his fortress having been cast into the shadow of the surrounding hillsides, though the tops of the trees still dripped with the golden light, still hung in the world like a shining ornament.  Surrounding them was the darkness of the day, but these selected spots clung on ferociously to a battle that would eventually be lost.

He was like those trees, that light.  He would fight to the end…

The light was that of a hazy quality that accompanies the arrival of autumn—the light seen through wispy clouds and the smoke from the burning fields.  It was a perforated light that did not produce any definite shadows but only vague representations of their form—as though they should have been there but did not have the spirit as to muster any limitations in general.

As the sound grew closer and closer, Sesshoumaru's expression deepened.  In a few days, this land would no longer possess the same tranquility that it did so at this moment.  Instead of the distant song of the mocking bird it would be the shouts and cries of men and the dim boom of cannons firing in the background.

He really should have sent Kagome away, somewhere safe, somewhere peaceful so that her innocent eyes would not have to see half-living men stumbling back to camp only to die in the morning.  

But he was being selfish.  He wanted her to stay until the end, until he had to watch her be carried away by Inuyasha—just to ensure that the affair would end.  Perhaps Kagome would lose her spirit for Inuyasha and then Sesshoumaru could rest in peace, congratulating himself of narrowly avoiding such a hindrance…

Such thoughts were cruel—like pouring salt atop a snail or a slug.  

Aware for the first time that he had arrived at the source of the sound, he was speechless.  His eyes widened in astonishment and incredulity as he watched with blatant disbelief as Kagome, in full attire like that of an archer, strung an arrow onto bow.  She raised her arms and pulled back—her form perfect and natural.  Her eyes narrowed in an almost vicious manner and suddenly, without warning, she released…

Its path was true and without hesitation, and although she had only missed the center by a finger nail's measurement, a look of disappointment appeared on her face.  She sighed and tucked a piece of escaped hair behind her ear.  Bending to reach for another arrow that was neatly arranged on the nearby pavilion, she noticed for the first time Sesshoumaru's form standing near.

She flushed almost immediately, and Sesshoumaru was unsure whether to be pleased that he affected her in such a way, or wary that soon such emotions would have to end and it would be tears that he would be forced to watch.

But her smile, although beautiful on her face, hinted that perhaps her thoughts during the course of the day might have been the same as his; the fact that their affair was doomed in all ways possible.  The smile did not reach her eyes; it was an expression out of kindness.

When she spoke, her voice was translucent and without substance.  She was there, yet intangible, like the lazy smoke emanating from an incense censer. 

"Good evening."

It was after five in the afternoon.

"Good evening," he replied in turn, his eyes wandering from her eyes to her lips and finally to her hand as she picked up another arrow. 

"I was not aware you knew _Kyudo," he admitted, finding that it sounded rather foolish.  But, nevertheless, he had already spoken and the deed was done._

"Yes, for some time now.  I practice in preparation."  She admitted, stringing the arrow and turning back to face the target.

The bow flexed and it shone in the reflecting light of the day.

"In preparation for what?" he asked, rather abashed, though his facial expressions gave nothing away.

She released, and this time it was the direct center of the target.

Kagome turned to him, a true smile on her face now and she laughed, "See? You are my good luck charm, Sesshoumaru."  Then she turned serious, realizing what she had just said. The happiness Kagome should not be allowed; she still had yet to answer his question.  "I am preparing for the war, and guarding my life—for you will be preoccupied with other things, and so I must observe for the worst." She paused and placed the bow down against the veranda, "Would you not agree?"

"I would agree, indeed."  He replied coolly, "War will soon be upon us."

Upon _us._

She sighed, and leaned against the porch, her expression dim and tumultuous and fearful, "Sesshoumaru…!" she began, looking up at him, her eyes wide.  

But he was prepared.

"I know what you would say," he whispered, closing his eyes, "That what we want and what we may have are two different things."

She did not speak for a moment.  Perhaps she was surprised by his directness.  Even he was somewhat astonished by his tone.  Yet never before in his life had he been so serious.

"And so, this must end, even though it has not yet begun," Kagome whispered.  She was crying now, the first time she had ever truly cried before him.  Tears had welled up but never fallen—or perhaps they had been mixed with the rain, but never truly had Sesshoumaru seen them.

His eyes were open once again, and he looked at Kagome in desperation.

Turning to leave, he echoed, "Yes, we must end what has not begun."

From just over the horizon, the tip of a large cloud appeared its top red and gold, dripping with the colors of the sunset.

Sesshoumaru's slow steps halted, and looking over his shoulder, he found that Kagome had followed him, like the day into the night.  She reached for his hand, and he did not pull away.  Their fingers intertwined, however briefly.

That same emotion was present, the mediation to that foreordained night.

And with that action, the hillside was cast into the darkness, the gold replaced by silver and an incomprehensible whisper on the wing…

_I know not whether_

_It was I who journeyed there_

_Or you who came to me:_

_Was it dream or reality?_

_Was I sleeping or awake?_

*

AN: 

Kyudo: Japanese archery, technically.

Hmm, reading over this chapter, I find myself dissatisfied again.  Perhaps my writing style has gone down the tube. Anyways, hope you enjoyed the double post, nee??

Read, review, say "Aki ga kuru!"


	26. pillow book

Series: Inuyasha

Title: Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

Chapter 26

Main characters: Naraku

Rating: pg13

AN:  This chapter is unlike any chapter I have done so far to this story.  It is a first person narrative, and as such is in a different format.  I warn the readers before hand, that this *being* Naraku, there will be some sexual content, but nothing particularly bad.  In any case, enjoy the chapter.

Warnings: slight sexual content

Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

Chapter 26

Pillow Book

*

Ah, you wish to know of my life do you?  What a story it is to tell, what potential it has. 

Many years ago, oh, many many years ago, I was born in the slums of Edo.  My father was Shinji Suzuki, a most common name if I had ever heard one.  My mother in turn was to be Hanako Suzuki. Her maiden name before she married my father was, Itounoji—some unheard of house with not an ounce of samurai blood in their lineage.  My mother had no hopes for grandeur.  Even with her first breath, her destiny had already been decided for her.  Ah, pitiful thing.

From before I was conceived, it seemed that everything was against me.  

My father had talent, no doubt, to be one of the greatest swords crafters in all Japan, and had traveled to Edo at the age of 25 to be apprenticed to the current master of the art.  It is indeed a great tragedy however that my father found his calling for the art of wielding the sword too late in life.  Twenty five years old is an age in that craft when you are considered 'gone to seed' if you are still a novice—my father, although blessed with talent had wasted away his earlier years in typical teenage fashions.  Yet, getting back to my father and his fruitless dreams…

Unfortunately, on his way to Edo, taking a mountain road, he was robbed by a gang of mountain bandits.  By the time he arrived, he was penniless and half crazed with hunger.

It was a romantic tale, some say, the way my father met my mother.  I find the whole affair foolish.

My mother, Hanako, was a prostitute, and not a highly respected one at that. She was the type who was at the disposal of the sailors rather than the noble class or Samurai.  She owned only one silk kimono, its colors fading and the embroidery becoming unstitched.  It had been her grandmother's.

One night, or so it is rumored, the night my father stumbled into the wrong side of Tokyo, she found him collapsed against the side of the street. The thought of him being a murderer, or a slave seller, or a rapist did not cross her mind.  My mother was sweet to a fault—she was a weak woman, despite the hard background she came from.  Of course, being the good misunderstood woman that she was, she took him home, of course, and nourished him back to health.  How romantic, some said.  How cliché, I say.

From this point on, it was tragedy after tragedy.  

During a very short period of time, everything was going happily.  My father had a job at a bentou-ya saving up his money so he could return to his craft and my mother had found a job in a hotel serving customers food and not her body.

Yes, everything was roses and sweets for them.  Yes, a future hung in front of them; a happy life, a prosperous life, a life filled with love.

And then, I happened.

Oh, yes, I am sure that if she had lived, things would have been different. If she had not been such a physically weak woman, her body might have been able to handle the entire process.  My life might have been very different if Hanako, my mother who I would never truly know, had lived.  We might have not lived in the Tokyo slums, my father might not have become a raving alcoholic who was eventually murdered by a Tokyo gang he owed money to.  I, eventually, might not have been abandoned in my house for seven days, waiting patiently for my father to return home—something he obviously never did.

Oh, how old was I then?  Yes, I think I was nine…or perhaps eight…it all seems so muddled now, but that is of no importance.  I was young, do you understand?  I was too young to go through that crap that I went through.

But, if there is anything that I am; it is that I am a survivor.  I might be on the brink of death, or half crazy, or paralyzed—but I can always bounce back.  You will never be able to see the end of me, that is, until I eventually die.  Yet, death is inevitable as the sunset, is it not?  Days are very long for me, and at this point of time during my life, I see no problem in tweaking with God's hands.

_(This woman, well technically she is a servant, but a woman nonetheless, is not very experienced when it comes to the art of making love, now is she?  She just does things, hoping I will respond…and I am not.  How disappointing.  Girls hired, especially from __Edo__, aren't what they used to be._

_She has decided to take a different approach now.  Do excuse me for the interruption, but I have priorities._

_Ah, yes, she is learning now…_

_Have some tea in the meanwhile.)_

Now, where was I?  Oh, yes, Nine or ten.  Well, after that, I wandered around listlessly for a year, in and out of Tokyo, just barely holding on.  I ate anything and everything—trash, old fish, leftovers…I slept anywhere, in barns, haystacks, back alleyways.  Had it not been so damn inconvenient, the whole experience might have been fun. Finally, I got a job running errands for the noble house of Fujiwarano, and did such things as getting the daily tofu, rice, and sending unimportant love letters.  Considering I was so young and scrawny, and cursed with such an unimportant name as "Takejiro Suzuki" I am surprised they let me do anything at all, or even give me wages. 

But they did.  And that was that.  I cannot help it if people are kind.  Am I a kind person, I wonder?  Sometimes I believe so, but then, at the same time I ponder—is being kind extremely over rated?  Why let someone off easy when they deserve just what they get?

Continuing on…

Perhaps the greatest asset I retained from the Fujiwarano residence was learning how to read.  Yes, probably reading was what brought me to where I am today.  And my, how some people would curse the written word if they heard this knowledge.  Yet, there it is.

I learned how to read, and with that came hidden knowledge and depth and words of wisdom that I had not even deigned possible.  What I read I consumed and it was stored forever in my mind, and I often referenced to it when talking to the nobles every now and then when they asked if I had got the fish for the evening's meal.  Yes, alluding to past literary works and history dates can be very good if you wanted to impress the noble lords.

And, impress them I did.  It only took a few years.

From age, oh, thirteen through seventeen I became the advisor to a noble house located in Kyoto—of course, I changed my name, and the alternation of puberty can change ones look drastically.  I was no longer the son of Shiji Suzuki, known as Takejiro Suzuki—no, I was, oh what did I call myself then?  Really, I have had too many names to count…I believe at this point in time I was Akira Takehatsu son of Roushuu Takehatsu.  

While at Kyoto, I was the advisor and wrote out all the important documentation to the lord Matsuhiro Ito.  I learned much about the real workings of war and politics while there, and realized that there is only so much you can learn in books and that life has to teach you the rest.

In Kyoto, that was the first time I tasted the sexual delights that the world had to offer.  I was sixteen that first time, and the woman, whose name was ironically Hanako (my mother's name, if your memory fails you) was twenty-seven.  Her 'career' as she called it, was nearly over, and she had decided to retire to the rural community and become a countryside whore, where her only customers would be the occasional farmers and she could live her life in somewhat peace.  She called me, "her last taste of the youth"—but as it turned out, I would be a course that would not end for some three of four years.  To put it succinctly, I became her lover and supported her to the best of my ability.  Yes, with Hanako I was satisfied, at least physically…but mentally, I still desired so much more knowledge and power.  

Such desire created a path that would determine my place in the world.  My body may rot away, I may be forgotten, but my ideals, my memories…I wonder, will they bloom come next spring?

 I knew the key to success would be patience.  It had been demonstrated numerous times in history that the greed of man led to their downfall.  So, I waited and learned, and consumed, and drank the sweet liquid of Hanako and called myself content.  

I must say though, that Hanako taught me much in the art of love—so many radical ideas I had not thought possible.  She told me of books and wall scrolls where the acts we formed in the bedroom were demonstrated; she helped define my style as a whole.  Yes, I will never forget Hanako, wherever she may be…if she is even alive.

Life is fleeting, as the samurai say, like the cherry blossoms of life.  I must enjoy my time in full blossom, and I intend to do so.  No, the cherry blossom season is not over yet—we still have much time to go.

The master I worked for in my location was lenient and wise in his judgment. Although strict when I was in his company, he allowed me much freedom so that I could increase my knowledge in every way possible.  I took up many hobbies, such as calligraphy, kendo, judo, shogi, archery, and the most enjoyable of all, the game of Igo.

There was something transfixing about those black and white stones that were cool to the touch.  There was something of war and passion and desire and anger and lust and hatred that called out to me. 

Yes, perhaps it was my cruel beginnings in the world that made me want to wreck my revenge upon something, someone—and over the years, I did just that.  When my master first saw my strength, as well as my dangerous qualities, he transferred me to a friend's house in Hiroshima.  My master was wise, as was his decision.  He knew that revenge and hatred and greed flowed through my veins just like blood.

I was twenty by that point in time, and of all ironies, he sent me to a gay man's domain.  Of course, my new master, Mizuhara was not openly gay, but after my first night in his quarters, we eventually became sexually involved.  I say this openly, because I have nothing to hide.  After all, to gain more power in the world, one must not be afraid of the new and different.  After all, if one hides beneath the covers during the night one will miss the glorious moonscape.

Hanako of course was jealous, angry at me, and insisting that she be enough!  Women can be so clingy, my god! So, I broke it off, and she went running to the Tofu salesman back in Tokyo to which she had been cheating on me for the past year.  But it was of no matter—she was just a body I could use to my advantage, she had nothing I desired, or wanted, or yearned for.  No, I was basically done with the whore, and I would not be surprised that if I went back to Tokyo in a few years I would find her right back where she had started.

How pitiful.

Mizuhara and I soon became fast friends in more ways than one.  Mizhuara was my second lover, and he taught me many things as well.  It is one thing to have sexual relationships with a man and another thing completely to have them with a woman.  In my opinion, being "one" with a man is more…exciting.  Dare I use that word?  Why?  Well, for one thing, society frowns upon such things.  And so, the risk factor increases.  What if a person was to open the screens right at that important moment and see all—what if word was to spread, what if reputations could be ruined?  What if our screams and sighs in the night were heard through the rice-paper walls?

What if, what if, what if?  The thought arouses me, even to this day.

Of course, I could always move on, create a new name for myself—but Mizuhara, oh, he would be forever stained with the scent of that old me, that person from a past life.  I liked that thought quite a bit, actually.  It was as though by sleeping with him I had him under my control.  A commoner more potent than a lord—and such was the case beneath the sheets.

For a year our romance continued, until much to my dismay, Mizuhara took on a wife and was forced to spend his evenings with her.  Occasionally, we managed brief physical contact—and I laugh, looking back on it now!  There was the storage shed in the garden, and the bath, and how could I forget the pagoda out by the pond at two in the morning?  We were both boys with a large appetite, and that, I believe is forgivable. 

But did I love Mizuhara? Hah! Far from that.  You must not understand my personality, but to me, a person is just something I can get my pleasure from and toss away.  Like drinking a glass of ramune—yes, it is delicious and sweet, but gone eventually and now the glass gets washed, and put back on the shelf, waiting for more.

Yes, I am a glass that can never be filled.

I was twenty two when I left Mizuhara's house, greatly endowed with a large amount of money which Mizuhara had generously bestowed upon me as a parting gift.  I miss that man, but then of course, I have no regrets.  Currently, what I have my eyes set upon right now are four of the most glorious objects up to date.  We will get to them in due time, hm?

After Mizuhara, I satisfied my urges with the occasional random person who I never could remember the names of, but I spent most of my time forming underground connections and learning.  I learned everything I could get a hold on—from the art of bonsai, to make fabric, to the art of embroidery.  I wanted to be the jack of all trades, and ensure that I would be a match for no one—that eventually the world would see me for what I truly had to offer.  I would no longer be a commoner, but I would instead rise up among the warlords—and perhaps soar beyond them in my greatness.  I would be a figure in history that none would forget.

By the time I was twenty-five, I had decided to go on a 'vacation' as I call it, and I joined a band of mountain thieves up in the Alps attacking innocent villagers.  I killed my first person there, and I do not admit that I did not enjoy hearing their screams of mercy.  I enjoy being in control, is this I crime?  If I had to analyze myself, I would suggest that it was my lack of support from my non-existent family that made me this way.  But then, of course, any idiot who hears my life tale would have the brain cells to figure this out.  

You are startled that I laugh as I say these things, hm?

But, as it turned out, being thief wasn't for me.  Yet, while up there, I heard about something that really was worth my time and effort.  This was the Shinkon no Tama, of course.  After all a jewel that can grant wishes, one would have to be crazy not to want such a thing!  In any case, I wasn't stupid enough to go and get it—and knowing the outcome, I tricked my friend, Kansuke, into trying to steal it.  When he came back with only one eye, I knew that it was the priestess that I needed to get around.  But, first came the pain.

Yes, I know all too well the power of revenge.  And for the first time in my life, I was subjected to it by another person.

Yet, pain is only truly excruciating if you think about it—so as the flames danced around me, and as I fell to the bottom of the cliff, paralyzed, I thought of the nights I had spent learning more and more knowledge, and being wrapped in whatever lover's arms.  I thought of that pleasure and not this pain.

As you have already figured, I survived. I lived, though just barely.  For days, I lay at the bottom of that damned cliff, unable to be move and being scorched by the sun and drowned by the rain.  At one point, the rain became so heavy that I was washed into a nearby cave.  Although the situation was somewhat better, I began to severely fear for my life.  At night, I could hear the sounds of demons awaiting my death so that they could pounce on my corpse. For the first time ever, I knew that death was stepping closer and closer.

On the fifth day, I was awoken by the gentle sounds and saw the figure of a girl sitting near me.  Her name, as it turned out, was Kikyou; the feared and beautiful priestess of the Shikon no Tama.

When I saw Kikyou, however, all my plans collapsed. The Shikon no Tama be damned. I am, if you have not figured it out, somewhat of a realist—and of course, it is very hard for me to believe in love at fist site.  Yet such was the case when it came to her…Of course, I could not talk, or move—it was only my mind that still managed to function.

And Kikyou is what and is still, my greatest downfall.  She is my one true weakness…

It was for her that I allowed the demons to consume my body; it was for her that I forsook my human life and turned into what I am today.  It was that hope for a future that drove me on, continually, continually.  It was as though all the actions of my life finally became clear—it was as though I had finally realized my purpose: to be there by her side.  It was a natural high.

By the time I had been devoured by my love and the demons, I had discovered all too late that it there was another she loved.  After all, I could hardly ask her of her personal affections! Realistically, there was no way that I could have known of her fondness and hence forth, it was no one's fault.  But I did not let myself believe that.  I was driven by my hatred and jealousy.  I escaped, and returned to the city to gather information on this hanyou lord, Inuyasha.  It was there I learned of his half brother, his jealousy, and the two swords of legend: I learned my plan of action, I learned the route.  All that was left was the mode of transportation. And so of course, I had to put a stop to it, and put a stop to it I did.  

I do not deny that what I did was cruel, and what I did was heartless.  But to have ambition, to have goals such as mine requires no regret.  I knew, I knew even as I stabbed her with the claws, that she would return to my side once again.  We two were—are, bound through time, the past, happiness and sorrow.  There is nothing I would not do for her, for us, and that dream, that ambition.

I am not a nice man though.  Let me make this perfectly clear. I will kill a person, yes, even without reason.  I will lick their blood and mock their family.  I am cruel.

But I do possess pity.

The jewel was buried with Kikyou, where, it was expected her spirit would continue to protect it.  I waited a year and then returned to the shrine and dig up her grave only to find the jewel strangely absent.  I learned from the village locals that one night a great light emerged from the shrine, for perhaps, a period of thirty seconds.  It then died abruptly, and a cry of a baby seemed to whisper on the wind.

I had allowed too much time to slip through my fingers; I had become too preoccupied in attaining power.

I waited and listened for news, taking anything I could find.  It was torture, I tell you. Torture, damn it.  For a period of fifteen years I was tortured by the thought that Kikyou and I were truly separated, that my plan had failed, that all the death, all the power struggles, all the lies, all the truths, all the bargains and treaties had they all been in vain. I whispered to myself night after night soothing my soul, and restraing myself for not going out and killing Inuyasha right then and there.

Even sex was no comfort.

It was not until three years ago that I narrowed the selection of possibilities down to only one factor: reincarnation.  Such events are typical, especially if unfinished matters die with the person, especially a priestess.

I realized finally who was the girl, who is of course—

_(Oh, excuse me for a moment.  One of my servants have arrived._

_Ah, I see Mistuki is calling me over.  We will have to continue this another time, although if you are truly interested, feel free to read my diary which after my death will eventually be found and made public after it is published.  Yet, my body waits for no one, and Mistuki is the finest of my collection here—although none can compare to the gentle rolling mounds of flesh and cool body of Kikyou, but then of course, the girls would get jealous if they knew I favored her among all the rest._

_As it is, I am growing bored with this conversation and wish to retire for the night in private.  And so, if you will excuse me…_

_By the way, would you like a girl sent up to you as well?  Such pretty flowers do we have here. All so well tended.  _

_Feel free to play gardener.)_

***

**

*

AN: A rather short chapter, ne?  Yes, I know, and I really could have continued the thing on, but I can't give away all my secrets, can I?  Also, sorry that it took me so long to get this chapter out.  My beta-reader and I had issues about the most recent version of this, and as it is, I have been extremely busy with school. Hopefully, it will be somewhat better now that college applications are in…though, somehow, I have a feeling that it wont. ^.^

Bento-ya: benta shop/restaurant

Read, review, say "sekai ga owaru!"

cappiepost@yahoo.com

Happy Holidays Everyone!

-cheers-


	27. pivotal territory

Title: Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

Series: Inuyasha

Genre: AU/Romance/Drama/Action/Adventure/Suspense

Rating: pg13

Chapter: 27

Primary Characters: Naraku/Sesshoumaru/Kagome

AN:  This chapter plans to be most interesting, and as usual as it seems one full of revelations.  I have taken about a 2 week writing break and now am back to see if I can write anything half way decent.

Shadows Against A Shoji Screen

Chapter 27

Pivotal Territory

The sky was white in those pre-dawn hours.  Soft, silent and stealthy, like a cat in the night, its surface began to slowly tint blue as it sneaked its way along the horizon.  The house and all that remained inside its fortified walls were gently prodded into a conscious state of being as the light permeated through the shoji screens  It was a soft light, hazy and without weight.  Like a weak tea, it slowly seeped through all barriers until nothing was left untouched, like the passage of time.  It was a gentle color, full of warmth and coolness like the dread and fear of autumn.  Joys of cooler weather ahead always blessed the thoughts of the country people, but with autumn came the tremble of winter.  The tremor ran throughout the country, slowly at first, yet picking up momentum like a great tidal wave out at sea.  It would wash all away. 

It was not truly light which shone through the thin rice paper, but more the empty feeling of such—more the rumor, more the whisper, more the sentiment of the morning more than anything.

Only one day remained.  One day until the start of the war, one day until the end of their chapter.  It was the beginning and the end for all.  It was the heron, waiting, tranquil, calm and silent in the waters; its presence not even detected amongst the reeds.  But come tomorrow, the elegant creature would reach out into the water with a flash of lightening and fly away, a writhing body in its solid and powerful grip.

War was such a bird, carrying people off into the mists of uncertainty and death.

Sesshoumaru, somewhere in the course of the evening, had fallen asleep atop his desk, his head cradled in his arms with a look of discomfort.  His eyes did not stir or even open when the beams of light shone dimly through the screen which led to his balcony.  No, his thoughts were deep and dark—so much so that it seemed no light could penetrate.  He held no light within him; he held no hope, only despair.  He wore it like his clothes, he bathed in it like the water, and he fed upon it like rice.

In the early morning light it was apparent just how exhausted Sesshoumaru was indeed.  It was apparent how tormented he was—caught between duty and loyalty and honor.  Would he, like a prisoner, have his limbs tied to horses and each taken off in opposite directions?  Would his body fall to the ground, by the time this experience had ended, no longer a body, just a whisper of what had just been there?

Although not looking ill or sickly, or even discolored—there was an aura, a sensation, a peculiar feeling.  It swept over one and stayed by their side when one entered into his room.  Once a person left the gold plated barrier that separated his world from the next, only then, at that instant, would this feeling dissipate. Even once one had fled from his room, the scent lingered on temporarily; the scent of fear.

Fear.

The servants had come and gone and it was nearly eleven o'clock, the rooster no longer howling incessantly at the moon like a perverse dog.  Perhaps the rooster, like the animals of old, was longing for its year.  It was longing for the year in which he could protect his people, in which the stars would align under his house…

But this year was the year of the tiger, after all.  The tiger which hid in the bamboo, his teeth gleaming like stars, waiting to strike.  Whether be it in life or love or war, the tiger was always unexpected, always stealthy, and always willing to risk its life.  Yes, the year of the tiger was some how very fitting; very appropriate.

As whispers began to sing through the floorboards in the house, across the nightingale floors, through the shoji screens and out into the world, there seemed to be no relief from reality.  All the servants were worried for their master.  All were worried for his future, his outcome, his potential downfall—and his exhausted state of being did not bode well.  Yes, there was a general fear of his defeat—for after all, never had there been a war such as this.  Never had there been so much to risk, never had there been a person to win the war for, never had there been such a fear… 

*

Kagome looked up from her ikebana and smiled warmly as Fujiko entered the room and placed down a tray filled with warm and comforting barley tea.  Its scent, like the steam which rose from the handsome container, floated gently throughout the room enveloping ones senses and giving them, if however false, a feeling of utter contentment.  Yes contentment was only an illusion, like a world within a painting—a place so difficult to find, a place so exhausting to discover.  Yet, Kagome thought softy to herself, placing a green stalk into the arrangement, when she was in the arms of Sesshoumaru—there seemed to be no world, there seemed to be no laws; there was nothing.  There was only contentment.

Fujiko did not leave, like the feeling of doubt, and sat down primly on the tatami mat, waiting patiently for Kagome to finish her task at hand.  Fujiko's eyes were soft and gentle, like those of a deer, but today, more so than others, they flashed with an unrestrained emotion.  

"It is no use," Kagome sighed to herself as she tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear,  the other hand holding a long stemmed cornflower, "There is just no place for it."

Fujiko looked hesitantly up at the piece and exclaimed, "Kagome-sama, that is very beautiful."

Kagome reddened and held the compliment tenderly to her heart, like the golden necklace that now hung over it.  

Her hands still held the cornflower, and extending her arm, she questioned, "Would you like it, Fujiko?  I could put it in your hair."  A simple ornament for a simple girl—yet highlighting the beauty in innocence, highlighting the wonder in those unclouded eyes.

Fujiko smiled softly and shook her head, "No, Lady Kagome, you should keep the flower.  Its petals are the same color as your eyes."

Kagome looked down at the flower and touched its lacy petals delicately, "No, this flower is much finer than my gray eyes."

The two were silent for a moment, and outside there was a splash as a heron dipped its beak into the water of the pond like a gun shot and withdrew, a glimmering effervescent fish caught in its trap.  How patient was the heron, standing still and awaiting the perfect moment to execute its attack.  How beautiful it was, its body gleaming white in the morning sun, its great wings broad and expansive.  How free was the heron amongst the cages of the world.

"Kagome-sama," Fujiko broached, leaning forward and pouring the lady a cup of the tea in a fine viridian glazed ceramic cup.  The autumn ceramic wear was slowly being added to the dishes, so every now and then, one would catch a flash of red or gold or orange amongst the backdrop of summer.  Taking the cup, the color of an old weeping willow in hand, Kagome looked up and saw the fear in Fujiko's eyes for the first time.

"There is something that I, and the rest of the servants wish to ask you.  We hope it is not too great a burden."

"Burden?"  Kagome laughed softly after sipping the tea tentatively.  "My dear Fujiko, I am sure that whatever you request would be no burden at all."  After all, there could be no burden greater than that which she carried previously.  There could be no sentiment of greater torment to her soul—there was nothing that could over power such despair.

Fujiko shook her head, her cheeks rosy as blood rushed to them.  Closing her eyes, as though to steady her voice, she questioned, "The staff is worried about Sesshoumaru-sama."

"Sesshoumaru?"  Kagome questioned, passion flooding into her voice, even against her will.  She placed down the ceramic cup down hurriedly and interrogated, "But what is the matter?  Is he hurt or sick?  Has he disappeared?"  Panic was hinted in the depths of her questions, pure emotion unfiltered in their content rushed through her thin walls.  She wondered if Fujiko suspected her feelings towards the youkai.  She wondered if their love was like a moon behind a cloud; not readily visible, but known to exist.

"He is…," she paused, and licked her lips, "I believe that he might be feeling unwell.  He has yet to awaken."

There was a long deep and silent pause.  From outside there was the gentle chirp of sparrows, the steady hum of the cicadas, the distant whisper of the river running against the lush loveliness of the damp forest mosses.

"You mean he is still asleep?  Now?"  Kagome questioned, incredulous.  It was practically unheard of for Sesshoumaru, the great lord of the Western Lands to sleep past seven in the morning.  It was already eleven, soon to be twelve.  Yes, there was no mistaking it—despite the naïve demeanor of the day; something deeper ran in its currents.

"Yes, Kagome-sama," Fujiko admitted softly, the first whisper of fear becoming apparent in her voice. 

Lifting the ikebana arrangement, she smiled sympathetically down at Fujiko and comforted, "Yes, I understand your worry, Fujiko.  Now, so close to the war, there is no time to have shadows of doubt lurking nearby."  She could hardly contain her nerves; hardly contain the fear, the trepidation…"I will attend to Lord Sesshoumaru, Fujiko."

She left her there, sitting quietly on the fresh tatami mats, the pot of warm tea still steaming merrily, its scent running about the length of the small sunny room.  Her steps echoed quietly against the silent nature of the house, and even she was mildly surprised when she found that her steps continued to quicken and quicken, like the beating of her heart against her breast.

The cornflower was still clutched in her hand.

*

They were a maze, the screens, a maze that separated her from the real world.  When walking along the seemingly endless corridors, it was as though one was in a place that did not exist.  Once you were beyond the bounds of those shoji screens, there seemed to be no world; only empty halls, passageways that led to nowhere.  Within those shoji screens lay everything, a microcosm of all of ones wants and desires—beyond the shoji screens, beyond the memories of what indeed lay ahead, there was just a cold emptiness.  

A vortex in time and space.

Walking along the dark halls, Kagome felt her heart quell within her breast.  Was there ever a peace in which she could take refuge?  Why must it have been that her life and Sesshoumaru's were not aligned in the stars?  Whose twisted joke had they been subject to?

Why did she want to live only for the hope of tomorrow?  Why did she want to live if destiny lay before her, a predicable road, encompassed with cliffs on either side?

It was as though they were connected by the red strings of fate—and more so.  Yes, she could feel the same pain that he felt, she knew when he was angry, or sad, or bitter, or remorseful—even with his expressionless mask.  Yes, she saw beyond the mask of Sesshoumaru.  Kagome saw what lay beyond, and she cried at its sheer beauty and potential.

The screen door slid hurriedly open; a sharp intake of breath, and then a slow and steady sigh.  Outside the wind bell tinkled in a light breeze blown in from the sea, and all was at peace once again.

Looking up at her, Sesshoumaru smirked softly and whispered, "No, there is nothing the matter, Kagome." 

He sat there, behind his desk, as was described.  Sesshoumaru looked perfectly calm and awake as though, as though he had been expected to hear her footsteps padding along the hall.  Yes, Sesshoumaru was prepared when he saw her—prepared to understand and accept the world for another day.  The last day…

Kagome's face contorted for a moment into anger and annoyance, and nearly slamming down the ikebana onto his desk, she ranted angrily, "What do you mean, there is nothing wrong?  One of the servants was practically in tears!"

_I was practically in tears…_

"You mean I am not allowed occasional extravagance when it comes to the amount of sleep that I allow myself?"

He was mocking her now, his eyes dancing in the morning light.  But she knew he could see her pain, she knew by that dark look in his eyes that he meant her no harm.  She knew…

Kagome, looking fearfully up at the youkai, licked her lips and whispered softly, bowing her head, "I was worried about you…I know that now is the most taxing time of the whole endeavor, and I do not wish…"  She could never convey what she wished to say to him.  Had she been a typical girl, she would have confessed her love right then and there.  But what was the point of confessing such a love?  Where would love take her, even if it was returned?  Yet, she still wished to describe in words, yet not invented, how deep her love for him ran.  It was like an underground current of gold, a sea beneath the surface—never detected by the world, yet a secret only to the two of them.  Only they could see into the black abyss.

She paused, and studied the grain in the tatami.  Kagome could feel his eyes against her; she could feel his stare against her skin.  Sinking down to the ground, seated not a foot away, she whispered, "I was worried.  I do not wish for you to—I want you to be careful.  Don't you understand?"  

She was looking at him again and was mildly surprised to see that Sesshoumaru was staring at her in amazement, his lips slightly parted.  What had happened to her this morning?  Why was it that she wished to expose her heart?  Why was it that she wished to be unprotected? Why was his stare more damaging than ever?  Why did his eyes have to convey all the passion he wished to hide?

"If you, if you—," she could hardly form the words, her throat was so full of meaning, so full of fear and sorrow and regret, "If you are not careful, you will die, do you realize this Sesshoumaru?"

He scoffed in indignation, "You insult me."  Yet it was not an angry or even bitter repartee, it was something without substance like the steam from  warm tea, the reflection of the heron against the watery surface.

"I know you are powerful and skilled and have outlasted more than your share of battles.  I know you are strong, but if I were to lose you, even though we may never be together, then my life would be worthless, more so than it is now."  Yes, there was her declaration.  She had whispered it to the world, and only he had heard amongst the light and shadows of the shoji screen, against the reflection of the water, beyond the blue sky…

She could feel the tears pooling in her eyes, she could feel the flush against her breast, her cheeks; she could feel her rapid breathing and the beat of her heart.  Yet it mattered not.  What she had said was her hearts deepest fear, a dark depthless pool.  In that moment she had admitted to love, something that was denied to one such as her…

Sesshoumaru looked at her, staring, in actuality.  He heard every word she said, yet nothing at all.  Yes, she had confessed to that same sentiment which had been haunting him for the past weeks.  That same hope that was never openly expressed, yet implied…

Kagome had never looked more beautiful than she did now; in this morning light, her cheeks pink with emotions, her eyes sparkling with her tears which were threatening to overflow.  Yes, never had she seemed more alive than she did now—never had she displayed such character.  It was said one should live each day as it was your last—and for today, it was so…

How much he wished to reach out for her right now, to envelop  her in his arms, to taste those tempting lips against his own, to feel her bare body—but, like this war, like his life, like love, it was all in vain.  Where would hope take them to?  Was there a paradise in which they could be together?  No, hardly...death was the only option, and both held too much pride than to abandon their worldly ties.

No, they could only enjoy their love for this moment, for tomorrow there was a destiny that neither could turn back against.

Yet, once again, he desired her above all else.  He desired her above his happiness, his hope, his future…

Without her, his life was but a meaningless game, for all were losers in the end.  Without her there was nothing.

There was _nothing._

She faced him now, her face red, her chest heaving, her lips trembling out of worry, out of fear, out of sorrow.  Yes, she cried for him—she was perhaps the first and last to do so, he thought to himself as he felt the desire wash over him.  He could not restrain its force, it consumed him, it would eat him alive if need be—and once he had tasted her, once she was his, if only once—than he would die happy knowing that at least on one occasion they were not denied what they wished.  

_"…then my life would be worthless, more so than it is now."_

What a stupid, foolish and utterly perfect girl.

Reaching out, he touched her cheek gently and caught the tears that fell like the plum rains of spring.  Yes, they were too late for the festival, but they could still see the fireworks.

Sesshoumaru leaned forward, titling his head and softly, slowly he kissed her smooth and fresh neck.  It was just as he had imagined it would be; tender and soft, yet so full of life and trembling beneath his touch.  She was just as afraid as he; afraid that all this would shatter to the floor.  Hope was already gone, but its echo remained.

Closing his eyes, Sesshoumaru drowned in her scent, drowned in her and let the fire consume his soul; his movements, and soon he himself would not be able to contain his actions.  Her breath and slight moans only encouraged him, and entangling his arms about her waist, he looked down at her, his eyes gleaming, awaiting the prize—her lips which he had yet to taste.  Yes he was consumed by the fire that Naraku had predicted, he was consumed to death with this creature—and although regret and remorse still loomed heavily on the horizon, the sun only shone for them now.

Yes, there was only now.

He kneeled closer, their breath mingling as one.  What a mutual relationship it was between the two, they fed off one another and prospered…

She called out his name, softly, and in a hushed voice.  Her fingers gently brushed against his cheek-bones causing a sensation to flow down his spine.

Her skin, from beneath the many folds in her kimono, called out to him.  Kagome was willing to be called his as he felt her hands trace along his back.  His sharp claws gently stroked their way down her neck, to her collarbone, and down…and down…and down…and he nearly went insane with hunger…

"Oh my.  I dare say, am I interrupting something?"  A voice behind them questioned, the manner of false surprise yet deep knowledge lurking in its masculine tones.  The voice was deep and liquidly, thick and full of merit and wit and substance.

The screen door had slid open, and even Sesshoumaru's ears had been distracted at the task at hand that now lay in his arms.  He would have wished it no other way, for indeed, Kagome required and demanded his full attention.

But now…now, it was ruined.  Their breathing slowed, and the two recovered.  Kagome adjusted her silks, and bent her head down and avoided the eye contact of the man who now entered so casually into the room, beaming and smirking in a knowing fashion.  He settled himself down near Kagome, a bit too close for comfort, thought Sesshoumaru decidedly.

Gazing across his low-lying table, Sesshoumaru studied Naraku in an icy reserve as he adjusted his garments.  He had recovered quickly enough, or as was quickly as could be expected.  His heart still raced, but his eyes no longer held the expression that would give all away.  There was no trace of love, no trace of scorn, no trace or desire or passion, no trace of anger; they were unaffected and blank, like the white of a snowy scene.

"And what, Naraku, do I owe to the pleasure of your unexpected visit?"  He questioned coolly, his eyes glancing to Kagome who sat quietly, if composed, some three feet away on the opposite side of his desk.  Her hair was not undone, but arranged neatly atop her head only a few strands escaping. The color was beginning to sink away from her cheeks.  Yes, Kagome was smart, she realized who this man was, she realized his power, and she realized her role.

"Why, my dear Sesshoumaru, I come to wish you good luck.  For, after all, tomorrow begins the day of days, does it not?"  Naraku's voice was false in its hope, false in its wishes, false in everything.  His façade held no merit in Sesshoumaru's eyes.

"There is no such thing as good luck, or good fortune.  All is a matter of fate and destiny—and there is no changing that.  Neither you nor I can tamper with our fate."  Sesshoumaru replied coolly, withdrawing a piece of rice paper from a folder and beginning to grind the ink.

"Ah, well, there, my dear friend we differ in our opinions, do we not?"

Sesshoumaru did not say anything, but applied his concentration to adding a bit of water to the ground ink.  Sesshoumaru did not see the look that Naraku made, he did not see the anger that was hinted in his eyes, he did not see the lust nearly boiling over, he did not see it at all…

Naraku's smile was as false as a transformation of a tanuki.  But, nevertheless, he turned that false smile unto Kagome and waited patiently.

"So, Kagome, what news have you heard of your husband, Lord Inuyasha?"

Sesshoumaru nearly lost his grip on the ink well, but he recovered silently.  Yet even Kagome was aware of the tension that filled the room, she was aware of the importance of her answer.

"I have heard no news, Lord Naraku," she replied demurely, yet she had enough strength to look up into his dark eyes.  What she saw in his face was the deepest scorn, the deepest travesty, the deepest current of pride.  He knew, he knew the power he held over her future.

"Oh?"  He questioned sweetly.  His thick sculpted eyebrows rose in amusement and disdain, and fear consumed Kagome's heart, only to be replaced by anger and hatred.

"If you will excuse me, Lord Sesshoumaru," Kagome whispered, bowing deeply towards the youkai, and then, silently she stood and exited the room.  Sesshoumaru would not be angry with her quick, if not rude departure, she told herself.  Sesshoumaru was just as aware as she was that if she stayed all would become loose and frayed and undone.  She had no choice but to leave and to seek safety as far away as possible.

Her role at this moment was to seek solitude, in a place where only he would find her in the end.  A place out of harm's way. 

Sesshoumaru was the heron in the pond, patient and powerful.  He was deadly.  

*

Naraku's eyes immediately fell to Sesshoumaru and a grin began to form, slowly, deviously.  Yes, there was dark knowledge as evident as tadpoles in a forest pond.  They swam and lurked and darted and glowed…and their unborn croaks and chirps swarmed the water with meaning.

"That is the way things are then, hm, Sesshoumaru?"

Sesshoumaru said nothing, but he did not look away.  He was not afraid to face the truth.  He was not afraid to face what he believed in.  Like the morning sun at dawn—bright and brilliant, it was also dangerous and tempting to look into its depths.  It was too easy to allowed oneself to get sucked in by its rays.  Yet Sesshoumaru knew restraint, he knew restraint as he knew his life.  His life was restraint.

How easily he could kill Naraku at this moment, yet restraint, always the constant annoying restraint.

"Well, I must say," Naraku continued, moving more towards the desk, and draping one arm over its surface, "This comes as no surprise.  She is a beautiful woman, and my, _my_, one of the most beautiful bodies I have ever seen.  I know few that could rival her."

Sesshoumaru's eyes narrowed, and dipping the bamboo brush into the pool of black ink, he coughed discretely, signaling a change of topic.  He would speak no more to Naraku; he would avoid the subject—for since when had Naraku become his keeper?  Since when did he have to justify his actions towards his ally?  No, that time was never and would remain as such.

"You realize, Naraku that you have left me no plans on your initial attack come tomorrow.  All my tactics purely derive from my own interests, and this has been selfish of me.  We are partners, and as such, I have treated you unfairly.  I presume the reason in your unexpected visit was to inform me of your plans so that mine may be accommodated to yours."  His brush hung over the paper, awaiting Naraku's words, awaiting the attack.   None came, only a gentle yet strangely harsh laugh.

"My dear Sesshoumaru, in all honesty, I only came here today to wish you luck.  I have no military plans, for my soldiers rely only on the fate of your battle.  If you do terribly, we shall be there, if you do extraordinary, we shall be absent."

Sesshoumaru placed his brush against the rest, and said nothing, but instead rested his chin against his hands and whispered, "And this was your only purpose in visiting unannounced?"

Naraku smirked, and whispered, "Well, when it comes to you, Sesshoumaru-sama, there are many other purposes lurking in other _parts_ of my body."

Sesshoumaru grimaced and said plainly, "I am sorry I cannot indulge you in your sexual fantasies.  As it is, I have much work to do—,"

"—Oh, I'm sure.  Yet, distractions run rampant like weeds, do they not?"  Naraku's eyes glinted in the midday sun, and despite the brightness the room suddenly seemed very dark.  Yes, Naraku would bring this subject into the sun, would bring it out into the light, even if it brought Sesshoumaru to the edge, to the point beyond no return.

Sesshoumaru ignored the comment and continued, "As such, it would be most convenient for me if you could leave me in peace then, and tomorrow, once it has begun, I am sure we will remain in contact.  That reminds me, have you prepared your carrier birds?"

Yes, let the innocent birds die for us amongst the wreckage of the battle field.  Let Mother Nature suffer our losses; let her wounds heal as ours have not.

Naraku nodded, and studied his finger tips, "Yes, I have at least twenty that are ready.  And what is your number, may I ask?"

"I have thirty that are prepared and able."  Sesshoumaru conceded, not begrudgingly, but anxious that Naraku take his leave.  He wished Naraku to disperse just as he wished the heat of summer to flee come the moment of battle.  Yet, the cool winds of autumn would hardly arrive tomorrow…

Naraku stood up, his dark hair cascading over his shoulders, and grinning he leaned over the desk, prepared to repeat the action of the last visit.  Prepared to taste the sweetness of Sesshoumaru's lips; the treasure that they held, their enjoyment and their pleasure. Yes, Naraku knew that soon he would have to wait no longer for Sesshoumaru's body, but it was so enjoyable playing this game of cat and mouse!

He wasted no time in leaning down, willing to steal the man's honor at a moments notice, willing to risk it all.  Yes, Naraku was a risk taker when it came to attraction.

This time, however, Sesshoumaru was ready.  

Metal glinted in the light, and Naraku felt a soft, if acute, pressure against his neck.  A long thin blade sparkled and shone, the double edged sword that Sesshoumaru was.

"I would not do so if I were you," Sesshoumaru hissed, "Go seek your sexual pleasure in other places."

Naraku stood up, and bowed deeply, the act strangely dishonorable, "As you wish, Sesshoumaru-sama.  Until tomorrow then."

He cast the youkai lord one more approving grin before he walked calmly out of the room and into the hallways lined with decorative shoji screens.  The gold leaf glinted as did his eyes.  Yes, if he would not be allowed to taste Sesshoumaru this morning, then he would settle for his wench; the kind and sweet girl Kagome, who, come tomorrow, would be dead, drowned in a battle field of blood.

Yes, the girl was ripe with her lust towards Sesshoumaru—surely he would not sneak a nibble before the girl died. Yes, Kagome was ready to be tasted, and he imagined her sweet juices and they brought a tingle to his spine.

*

He found her some five minutes later walking down the outside pavilion in a most auspicious place indeed.  This side of the property was perhaps the most dangerous as well as the most cunning.  Yes, this particular spot truly demonstrated the military ingenuity that Sesshoumaru possessed.  He had not designed his fortress in vain.  The property itself was located on the side of a cliff; all sides except one were in relative safety.  The northern expanse faced the mountain range as did the east.  The western expanse was some twenty meters away from a steep decline that lead into a deep forest that was divided in two by a gurgling brook that, come winter, swelled with the full intensity of a the God's wrath.  It was truly the southern side which remained the most dangerous, at least, for any one stupid enough to be caught there.  And Kagome was about to be trapped.  

Yes, it was odd enough that the south, facing his lands, should bring so much treachery.  No, Sesshoumaru did not even know of the power he, Naraku, had.  The power he held, the power he wished for.  Sesshoumaru, as well as his wench Kagome, were both but fools caught up in the heat of war.

In all areas of the house there was a surrounding pavilion on the one story level.  Random strips of the pavilion were covered in the traditional nightingale floor.  On the southern face of the property was a basement had been formed to keep surplus crops from being spoiled by rain, or as storage to hold spare artillery.  This route also happened to be the quickest to the lake located in the back of the property.  The upper deck allowed for two flights of stairs to be made for the stretch of about two hundred yards.  There were only two ways in and out of the area, which was clever indeed.  For example, if a group of thieves had been cornered on either side, there were only two possible ways for their escape.  The first of which was suicide, or the second of which was torture, as they were killed by their captors.  

If there had been only one set of stairs, this would have been a burden to those defending the property.  If there had only been one flight of stairs, the men would have been outnumbered as well as outmaneuvered.  If preformed correctly, this strategic location could kill a group of one hundred men with only ten to perform the action

Ah, and how beautiful that Kagome should find herself here, in this most exclusive part of the house.  How beautiful it would be when he raped her amongst the sacks of rice, and no one, not even Sesshoumaru, would be able to hear her screams.  The basement, after all, had been created with several layers of rock.  Yes, he would enjoy making love to the virgin, enjoy her sobs and eventual moans—he would enjoy it all, and promise her, after the act was done, that he would return to her in the night to take another serving.  Her rapid breath amongst the bounty brought him infinite amounts of pleasure.

"Ah, Kagome-sama, just the person I was looking for…"  Naraku greeted suavely, running his hands automatically through his long dark trusses of hair.  The light green of his attire, mixed with the white and gentle cream, gave him an almost kind-hearted look.  He had particularly chosen this apparel for this journey—for perhaps the light colors off set the dark and devious, and oh, the cunning quality of the visit itself.  Yes, light colors suited him nicely.  

Kagome, glancing up from her position by the railing (it seemed as though she had been admiring the view) paled and whispered, "And why is that, Lord Naraku?"

Naraku smirked and moved closer.  He could feel the fear radiating off her, as did the blush on her cheeks.  Her submissive nature towards him seemed to turn him on in some way, she was the complete opposite of Sesshoumaru's dominating and controlling nature, and in addition inside he knew there lay a passion as deep as his.  And more so, he would be the first to taste that fervor.  Yes, he would over take Sesshoumaru's property and taste her sweet nectar…

"Why, I wished to discuss with you a very important matter."  He stepped closer.  Their eyes met, and she looked away.  Ah, how coy indeed.  How faithful she was to her lover and not her husband, how faithful indeed.

"Oh?"  She took a step back and fingered her lush kimono nervously.  Little did she know that the kimonos she dressed in every day were that of Naraku's—little did she know that she wore his property, all kimonos were Naraku's; except one, that was.

"Yes, that is correct."  He moved forward another step.

"Does Sesshoumaru-sama know where you are?"  Her voice was beginning to give all away.  She was beginning to realize his intentions.  He liked his women cunning, just as he liked his men.

"Why would that matter?  He is not my ruler…," He smirked and allowed his eyes to travel first to her lips, her neck, to her breasts and then down and down and down, perpetually down.

A bee droned lazily as it pollinated a cliff dwelling flower, holding on to the edge.

"You are in his house, his domain," she pointed out apprehensively.  She was but two meters away from the stairs, but two meters away from her potential safety.  Had she not realized it yet?  There was no safety when it came to Naraku.  Nothing was sacred, not even the miko.  Not even the gods.

"Well, he is free to act the way I do, if he should ever visit again," Naraku brushed aside, making sure to keep his gaze pinpointed on her pretty eyes.  "You know my dear; it is amazing how similar you and Sesshoumaru are—both unaware of what lies before you.  You refuse to see what is really there, you refuse to go against your word, even if it will torture your life, even….," he paused, "If your husband has taken a lover as I speak…even if they are intimate, you look away and are noble.  I admire this in a woman, however idiotic it may be."

Kagome did not flinch, did not move, did not blink, and did not breathe.  Only her lips moved, as though she was an impassive marionette.

"Well, if you shall excuse me," Oh, her eyes had turned glossy with tears.  How touching. How touching indeed.  But something else lay in those depths, it made him uneasy.  It was as though she had realized something, as though he, in his lust, had given away a secret, had given away something of great importance.

But no. That could not be.  He was creating unnecessary problems.

She started for the steps.

_No. Not so easily, my dear Kagome.  There is no escape from me now.  Ah, look you are fleeing up the stairs, but what is this?  How easily I have caught your hand, how easily I have pulled you too my side.  How easy it shall be to take your virginity._

He laughed.

"Naraku, let me go," she begged, holding onto the banister for support.  It felt week and unstable to the touch, despite its sturdy foundations.  Yet it was no use, his grip was so powerful that it overcame her, and suddenly, she found his hand over her mouth, and the other holding her wrists. Kagome was now his prisoner, she was now at his mercy, now at the wrath of his desires, his body, and his ambitions.

She could say nothing, she could not scream.  She watched as the storage door was closed and as the darkness surrounded her.  She felt the hand from her mouth being released only to be replaced by Naraku's lips and his searching, insatiable appetite.  Her hands were now over her head, being held firmly in place with his grip.  The remaining fingers were now undoing the folds in her kimono, and tears began to fall without mercy when she felt his hand against her breast.

No.  No.  No.  No.  It could not be like this!  His lips were still pressed against her own, and biting down hard she drew blood.  It was salty in her mouth, a flavor she had never tasted.  It startled him, but to her disgust, he seemed to be used to it.  His eyes took on a new glint in the din of the chamber, and he only deepened the kiss, forcing his will against hers.  For a moment he withdrew and tilted her head towards his so that she would be forced to look into his face, into his eyes, into his desire that looked at her without blinking.

"Oh?  So you like it that way, do you then?"

For a split second, he brought his hand to his lips and wiped away the blood.  His lips gleamed red like the juice from a pomegranate, stained and punctured and glowing like rubies.  If there was an opportunity, it was at this second, at this moment in time only.  There was no time for regrets, especially in her youth.  Yelling at the top of her lungs while firmly kicking him in the thigh, she watched as he bent over in pain, like the chronic illness of an old man, with a vocabulary just as broad.  Collapsing against the bags of rice he laid there for a split second, a fraction of time in which escape was probable—even possible, so, scrambling to her feet, Kagome dashed towards the closed exit.  There was no time to think, there was no time to question—no time to debate, no time to ponder or wonder or even surmise.  Her hands had just felt the cool metal of the handle, to her, a savior, but she was yanked back again in pain as Naraku pulled her hair with the force of hatred itself.

"Nice try."

She continued to scream and kick, and dimly, she thought she heard footsteps—or perhaps it was the beating of her heart, rapid, and out of breath.  She was the deer in the hunt, impaled by an arrow—there was no escape, only death, only him, only Naraku and the darkness of the room.  Kagome nearly gagged when she felt something hard between her legs, she felt his ravenous hands begin to untie her obi and it fell away like regrets.  She was now bare in the darkness of the cellar, Naraku pressed against her hope, and suffocating all fear, all hope, and all sentiment.

But no footsteps could be heard, no distant voices like the boom of thunder, no noise—there was nothing, just the blue in her heart.

***

**

*

AN: *cackles madly* bwah ha ha ha ha. 

Originally, this was going to be a much longer chapter, but it has been a while since I did one of my signature "suspense" chapters.  A miko doesn't need to be a virgin, ne? Isn't that only for Fushigi Yugi?  Anyways, yes, this chapter was interesting. Lots of action, and rather cut short in my opinion.

In any case, hope you enjoyed the chapter, and part III ('the war') so far.  Wow, the war is but one day away!  Naraku needs to learn some control!  But is it just me, or is he some how appealing in all his bad-ass sexiness?  Whoops, getting too involved with the characters here.

Want to know what a cornflower looks like.  This link should help.

Read, Review, say…Abu! (you know, Aladdin's little monkey side kick??  He he he. That is how you spell it, ne?? O_O)

cappiepost@yahoo.com

AIM: cappie chan/ kantou matsuri


	28. the scent of rain

Title: Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

Rating: pg13

Genre: romance/drama/action/adventure

Series: Inuyasha

Chapter primary characters: Sesshoumaru/Kagome/Naraku

AN:  Well, did you guys all hate me very terribly for the last chapter?  Some how, I have a feeling you did.  I don't blame you, really, I don't.  Anyways, this chapter takes off write where chapter 27 left off.  I originally was going to make this chapter one of those intercalary chapters, but decided I should just finish something I started off as it was…y'know? Anyways, enjoy this.

Warnings: might be shorter than usual.

Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

Chapter 28

The Scent of Rain

*

The newness of the late summer morning had worn off, and now there was only that humid heat, just beginning to creep about the edges of the world.  It was not uncomfortable, but strangely pleasurable in fact. The pine trees stood inaudibly and rigidly in their place along the sloping mountainside, beneath the cool stream, kept fresh with the snow fall of the distant winter.  Down below in the valley the sounds of children at play echoed softly through the tranquil scene, alit only with the sound of nothingness, the sound of the world breathing.

A heron in the freshwater pond flapped its wings causing the water to ripple and undulate beneath its breast, its reflection winking up at it.  It took off into the sky speckled with large clouds, their bottoms beginning to ripen gray as the scent of rain began to whisper to the territory from over the mountainsides, as calm as boiling bubbles in a thick and hearty stew.

Sesshoumaru angrily scanned through papers.  Atop his usually immaculate desk there lay a variety sheets; letters, notes, plans, data and calculations.  All such pieces of paper were keys to his success—all held something which was important which could not be forgotten.  The parchment was his second sword, just as deadly as the metal that he carried by his side.  Yes, these words and directions—they were the yin to his yang. 

Naraku's visit some five minutes ago had unsettled him greatly.  Between the combination of Naraku finding Kagome in his arms and the lack of details and information regarding Naraku's tactics, Sesshoumaru was feeling uneasy.  Although, unsurprised as the attack had been, Naraku's physical, if not sexual innuendo, disturbed him greatly.  What was wrong with that man?  It was not uncommon, of course, for men to prefer their own gender, and he respected those few for not being afraid of the constraints of society.  Yet, there was a difference, as far as he was concerned, about how far a man's sexual desires could go, especially towards one who was not interested.

This made twice that the Naraku had been so suggestive, and silently he contemplated if Naraku had similar behavior around others.  Was such an open display of his physical needs so typical?

He was unsure, and hoped that he had misjudged the man.  The fact remained that Sesshoumaru did not trust him and he felt as though his time with Naraku would soon be terminated.  He was becoming wary of their alliance.  Wary of it all.

He was gone now, and that seemed all that mattered.  He felt somewhat guilty, as he leaned back on the palms of his hands, that he was not attempting to find Kagome.  He knew his limitations towards her and understood, but it seemed every time they met, every time they shared the same room—it became more and more impossible to resist.  Fate was pulling them together and destiny was tearing them apart.

Yes, it was best to seek the sanctuary of the room, best to enjoy its material comforts, despite the trepidation that resided perpetually in the darkness of his heart.

Scowling, he tossed some papers aside.  It seemed as though suddenly there was so very much to do—as though tasks had suddenly been born from out of his head, or perhaps they formed like the creation of the islands.  Yes, was Amaterasu looking out for him amongst the rubble and deep fog of his life?  Would he find happiness with the ghosts of his past, and not the sweet arms of his future?

But he had no time for such thoughts!  No time at all.  The war was tomorrow, and each second the battle drums rang more heavy in his ear, each second they increased in their ferocity.  Each and every second…

Sighing, he gingerly picked up a bamboo brush and hurriedly scrawled out a letter and several copies to the generals he had appointed over the last several months.  He had written to them only a few days ago and he would not be surprised if the correspondence would arrive today.

He crumpled the current letters he was writing and threw them bitterly aside.  He could not concentrate—there was something lurking about, something not right, something unseen and unsaid.  Sesshoumaru buried his head in his hands, his silver hair cascading, tumbling, falling, over his shoulders and pooling on the cypress writing desk.  His golden eyes glazed over and his expression turned placid despite the tumultuous storm that was now brewing in his eyes.

_Damn it all…_

If Sesshoumaru had not taken that moment, had not calmed his nerves, had not forced himself to relent in self inflicted sacrifice and pain—then perhaps her screams might not have been heard through the din of crumpled paper.  Yes, her plea, her demand for help might have gone unnoticed.  If that had happened…if he had not heard her cry…

Yet he did.  He heard it, vaguely, muffled and contorted.  His head snapped up and his eyes narrowed.  Surely it could not be, he reasoned rationally.  It could be anything; a bird calling for its mate, the howl of a wolf, the distant gong from the monastery bell….

It repeated, more frantic, more implicit…

A second later, his room was quiet and the papers blew in the gentle midday breeze.  A hazy wash had over-taken the sky and over the tip of the mountain, the first peak of the storm head winked winningly, hungrily, down at the valley.  Yes, soon the rains would come and wash away the blood and the tears and the sweat, and all would be forgotten.  Or so it was said.

The papers became scattered and disorderly; Sesshoumaru was not there to restrain their character.  He had followed her voice into the spider's nest.

                                                                       *           

The darkness seemed to have consumed the man.  It was as though passion and physical desire was the only thing he was comprised of—his entity consisted of the want and the constant need.  There was no humanity in his eyes.  Was there ever?

His lips were still smashed against hers, his tongue playing a game of cat and mouse.  Everywhere she hid; there he was, there he was, there he was…

Vaguely she was aware of something firm against her legs and she dared not look down to detect what it was exactly.  The tears seemed to increase ten-fold and she was revolted when he chuckled sinisterly. 

He pulled away, gasping for breath.  His lips were still bleeding where she had bit him earlier.  Perspiration was beginning to fall down his bare skin.  From his forehead down his cheek unto his neck, upon his chest, his abdomen…down, down, down…

Naraku was laughing again, leaning against her now with the force of his body, his dark luxurious hair falling and mingling with her own.  He smelled dimly of sandalwood incense and dark moist earth.

"Now, my dear Kagome," he whispered in her ear, his breath tickling the skin, "The fun begins."

He held her head dearly and cradled it.  She was surprised that he was taking so long—after all, at any moment Sesshoumaru could come rushing in, or perhaps a servant in search for some rice.  Had he heard her scream?  Had it managed to penetrate through the walls?

"Oh, my dear Kagome, it is so amusing,"  He was nibbling at her ear now, his hands roving about her body, as though she was too hot, like a potato, to be handled so soon, "You try to wash away his scent, do you not?  You try to hide the fact that Inuyasha is your husband, you try to forget—but no, his scent has already been engraved in you…"  

He faced her now, and although she was still struggling, a dim light was beginning to register in the back of her mind.  Soon, she thought, he will slip, and give it all away.  Whatever it was.  But when that time came, when that one instant came, she would know, and she would have her sword in which to shatter his empire of illusions into pieces. 

"Yes, that same rich scent…but it is not Inuyasha you desire, but his brother," his voice was cruel, cutting and malicious, as were his actions.  He threw her down upon the sacks of rice and leaned over her.  His eyes gleamed in the black, as though light glowed from behind their darkness.

Leaning forward, a flash of lightening went off in Kagome's mind—she could waste no time with regrets, for soon, if nothing was to happen, her life would forever be marred with the knowledge that her virginity would have been taken by a man such as Naraku.

She kicked him hard.  It was in the thigh, and although he did not move, his grip loosened and he cursed.

"You bitch…," he spat angrily down at her, his attention momentarily diverted.

With one of her hands that had managed to become free she elbowed him in the arm and he collapsed slightly.  His face was furious, but not defeated.

What happened next seemed sluggish and rapid at the same time, as though the world had stopped and then run to catch up with itself.

With her left hand she pushed against his shoulder in an effort to wiggle out of his grasp, but suddenly, and to her great amazement, a flash of light emitted from her fingertips and crashed against Naraku's body, sending him flat against the opposite wall.  Her fingers tingled, and looking up at them in astonishment she found their tips aglow as though a light lived within her now.

She had no time to ask questions, no time to adjust her kimono that lay undone about her body, revealing practically everything—there was no time to think.  Hopping up, she dashed across the room, dimly aware that Naraku had already risen and was laughing in his deep, throaty manner.  Kagome gulped.  She could hear his footsteps echoing in her ear, one after another after another.

There is no escape, she thought desperately.

Her fingertips grasped around the cool metal door handle and she flung it open with all her might.  The bright, if not hazy, light of midday met her eyes.  Kagome was momentarily blinded by the brilliancy, but she had no time to recover.  She ran…

…right into Sesshoumaru.

He grabbed her forcefully about the waist and shoved her brutally aside.  Kagome could not see his face, but she could tell by the aura he emitted that he knew exactly what had happened.  Sesshoumaru was aware of Naraku's intentions amongst the forgotten bounty of rice.

"Naraku…," his voice was cold, emotionless and utterly sinister.  It was the voice of death.

*

Upon opening the door and seeing the disheveled appearance Kagome was in, he could but not but assume the worst.  He had carefully avoided the allure of her bare skin and moved her quickly aside.  There was no time to be delicate with the matter, not when one such as Naraku faced him now.

He withdrew his sword and it glinted in the light of midday.  It sang hungrily for blood.

As Sesshoumaru stood there, a concoction of repugnance and deceit and panic consumed his body.  What had happened if he had not heard her scream?  She would have been lying on the cold stone floor, her body thrown into the motions of love-making from under Naraku's hand.  She would have been eternally blemished by the man.

Naraku was walking towards the light now, his undone happi coat and open layers revealing his chest beneath it.  They glinted with perspiration.  The man was grinning…

"You sick bastard," Sesshoumaru spat, adjusting his form slightly.  If Naraku dared…

"Oh?"  Naraku questioned innocently, extending his tongue and licking his lips slowly.  He then adjusted his attire and smoothed back his hair. The curls had momentarily fallen before his handsome face.  Yet how calm and relaxed was he as stood there on the brink of life and death.  But, as Naraku knew, this was to be neither his first or last time that he was to walk his own tightrope.

 "You two live a lie; you realize that, do you not? You believe that here, you cannot be touched; by anyone.  May I point out that Kagome was nearly…," Naraku paused, grinned, and licked his lips.  His eyes fell on Sesshoumaru and he smirked, "Tomorrow brings the war, Sesshoumaru, like the rains from China.  Will you be washed away, or remain intact with my help?"

Sesshoumaru shifted his feet somewhat to redistribute his weight.  He lowered his sword, but was still willing and able to attack at any second.  What Naraku had done was unforgivable…

"Realize this Naraku," Sesshoumaru hissed lowly, just above a whisper, "When this war ends, whoever the victor, may I never see you or be in contact with you again…"

Naraku crossed his arms together and continued to grin.  "As you wish, Sesshoumaru-_sama,"_

Naraku stepped back slightly and melted away into the shadows and the first scent of rain entered the valley.

*

Dusk had now fallen on the lands; with its lavender color it also brought the cool winds from the ocean.  The crickets had begun their song and the fireflies of summer swam lazily about in the warm air. One of the servants had lit some incense that sent a pleasant fragrance about the whole estate. 

The wind-bell tinkled merrily from its post attached to a rafter near the dining room.  Two figures sat within the shoji screens of that small room.  Their shadows hung on the wall as did the tapestry.  A soft and golden glow was emitted by the paper lanterns located in all four corners of the room as well as the direct center, above the large low-lying mahogany table.

Bringing a mouthful of rice to her lips, Kagome paused, and looked questioningly at Sesshoumaru who sat opposite her.  His eyes did not meet hers; instead they remained downcast and unfocussed as he ate some pickled cabbage.

"I…," she paused, and waited for him to take notice of her.  But take notice he did not, instead, he only brought the lacquer bowl of miso soup to his lips and let the salty broth fall down his throat.

Kagome did not feel hungry; in reality, it was the last physical experience she would allow herself at this moment.  The war was tomorrow and uncertainty hung on the wing, just as her heart did.

Forcing herself to eat the rice she chewed on it slowly but did not taste its flavor.  Her eyes turned downcast as well and she looked helplessly into the bowl before her.  Ah, how quickly the day had gone by, how swiftly had the time disappeared…

She had hardly had time to think all day.  Her mind had been alit with worry and fear and concern for other people and persons and places.  Yet she had managed to have illuminated one subject area, something critical that she knew could not go without saying.  Kagome knew that Sesshoumaru had the right to know this information, if not more.

The missing pieces that for so long had haunted her nights had finally come to fit together in a puzzle that spelled only one word: complications.

She opened her mouth, and felt no regret in her heart as she began; her voice unsteady as the wind, "There is something I must tell you, Sesshoumaru."

He glanced up, and their eyes met, but he said nothing.  That acknowledgement itself was practically a hand-written invitation for her to continue.

"It regards Naraku…," she continued on, pushing her food away from her, the thought of it making her sick.

"I wish not to hear of the bastard.  His presence and reference is only a thorn in my side."  His voice was cold and rough like the very first time she had heard him speak, oh, those many months ago.  He had traveled in a full circle that day, back to the beginning.

"Be that as it may, you must know.  We are equals you and I, and it is perhaps my own weakness that I can keep nothing from you."  Kagome was aware that Sesshoumaru was grinning at her in an amused fashion, his amber eyes glowing as did the lanterns about the room.

"Well then, continue on, if you feel so strongly about the subject matter…," He closed his eyes and took a long draft of sake.  When his eyelids once again allowed Kagome to see the golden orbs, they were dark and full.  Yes, he had inkling of how serious the matter was, did he not?

"Naraku is a traitor."

Sesshoumaru's lips tightened and he replied furiously, "Do not state the obvious.  I believe this afternoon's events were enough to confirm that fact."

"No.  This is nothing to do with me, or this afternoon," Kagome insisted, leaning forward, her eyes wide, her voice hard and full of intent.  She had to make him realize that he and Inuyasha were puppets in his perverse play from hell.

_Sesshoumaru, please understand…_

Persisting on, she whispered, "I have the belief that Naraku, while he may be your ally, is also an ally to Inuyasha…" she would have added 'her husband', but she felt that that subject matter had been beaten into Sesshoumaru's head, and he was no fool.  She need not state the obvious.

"Why do you say that?"  Sesshoumaru was still calm, perhaps even more so than he had been a minute ago.  He did not believe her, she could tell…

"He said things to me in the storage room, he gave himself away.  He told me that Inuyasha had taken on a lover, which, if true, how would he have known?  Realistically, Naraku should have no contact whatsoever with Inuyasha if you are his ally.  And even if he has been in the vicinity of Inuyasha, then…how would he know so much?"  Even as she spoke, she became surer of herself, it all became clear.  It was this hesitant uncertainty that she had for months been trying to collect and analyze. She had found the answer; she had found the answer in a dim rice storage room, with an aroused man atop her, breathing lustily into her ears.

She flushed, and looked away for a moment.

But she had to continue.

"I remember…" Kagome whispered, so softly that one of normal hearing would have to lean forward, "I remember when I was still living at Inuyasha's fortress…I remember one day I happened upon his room while Inuyasha was there for a visit." She gulped, trying to remember that quiet buttercup afternoon of so long ago, "There was a map of the prefectures, and three pawns in each prefecture.  There was a red piece for him, a white piece for you, and a black piece…for Naraku."

Yes, maybe not at that point in time, but perhaps after her departure to Sango's domain, it was then that Inuyasha had most likely succumbed to Naraku's charm.  It was only until later that his true character would be illuminated.

"Are you quite sure?"  Sesshoumaru's voice held that same fear now, his eyes narrowed, and filled with the same deceit and hatred that that they had earlier been filled with out on the veranda.

"Yes.  There is no other way.  He says I am covered in Inuyasha's scent—but how does he know how Inuyasha smells, unless he himself has met him and grown accustomed to the aroma?"  Slowly, she looked up at Sesshoumaru again and spoke, "Naraku, he is a traitor, and it is my belief that this war between you two is only a plot for his greater goal."

Sesshoumaru said nothing, but it was his turn to look away.  It was his turn to say nothing.  It was his turn to be speechless.

"I do not know what he plans, or how he does so…but we are just pawns…" she cried defensively, slowly moving her way about the perimeter of the table and she sank to his side.  Feeling for his clawed hand, she wrapped her warm fingers about it, enjoying the feeling of his skin.  The war was tomorrow, within a few hours, and it was only now that she had realized the truth. She was late, and careless—but at least the truth remained.  Yet, how, she wondered, could the war be altered?  How, she thought desperately, could she convey to Inuyasha all the truth she had learned?  She knew that even if she found the opportunity it would be a terrible time convincing him—for Naraku had probably blinded his eyes with his will.

She sunk her head, but refused to cry.

His warm claws brushed against her face, and cradling her head in his hand, Sesshoumaru sighed in a melancholy fashion, "What else have we ever been?  We are born pawns, we shall die pawns—the only thing that will change is the player." 

This scene of theirs was the last in the first act in a Noh play. What would the second act bring?

***

**

*

AN: Well, there you go, the second part to chapter 27 (aka, chapter 28. duh) Hope you enjoyed it, and look forward to the next chapter.  There are either two possibilities of which chapter will be which chapter, so I will have to consult my beta-reader on that. Sort of suspensy and very much filled with drama, ne?  Has anyone besides me noticed that even though Sesshoumaru has kissed Kagome, it has never been on the lips?? He he he…*coughs* well then, I suppose I better be going. If you have any questions or anything, just tell me, ne?

cappiepost@yahoo.com

AIM: cappie chan

read, review, say "chuu chuu!" ( you know, like that mouse thang from Utena)


	29. into the mists

Title: Shadows Against a Shoji Screen  
Series: Inuyasha  
Chapter 29  
Rating: pg13  
Warnings: none  
AN: So, we come down to it, don't we? After 28 other chapters of beating around the bush, here it comes. The war, of course. I believe that as a writer these chapters will be the most taxing and difficult, but hopefully the end event will be good. In any case, I hope you enjoy it…and also, I suggest that if you have not previously, for a map to places I reference, go here…http : // www. Geocities .com / furinkoto _ neko / map (it should help you out, so you can locate out what the hell I am talking about) 

Also, this is a rather long chapter, about 20 pages of there abouts…so….lol, be prepared for a *long* read. In addition, please forgive me for not updating last night. I did not get home until 11 and then I watched Sen to Chihiro with some friends.

And, as usual, thank you so much TaskinLude! You make this so much easier for me…

*  
This chapter is dedicated to Salma.   
  
Shadows Against a Shoji Screen  
Chapter 29  
Into the Mists  
*  
  
  
Setting the cup of tea down against his polished cypress table, Sesshoumaru's golden eyes narrowed into slits of cunning. His fingers traced along a range of mountains, carefully painted onto a worn piece of paper, the piece of paper onto which would decide his own and his country's fate.  
  
All was silent. All was still. Life—war—nothing had begun.  
  
"So," he whispered to no one in particular, "It will be this way, will it?"  
  
The only answer he received was the tinkle of the wind-chime out on the veranda, echoing the uncertainty in his heart.  
  
Sesshoumaru was aware, more so than anyone he believed, the importance of the decision that he allowed. He knew that his plan had to be ingenious, swift, and merciless. Only in a quiet, steady stream of blood could his soldiers find courage and resilience, only once their enemy lay dead could they return home: home to their children, their wives, their houses, their mothers; home to their world, and all that they held dear.  
  
Sesshoumaru, on the other hand, would return to a quiet dwelling, devoid of all that mattered. Despite what he felt and thought and hoped, despite everything, he knew that when he returned from the war, Kagome would no longer be by his side.  
  
Like the bird she was, she would have flown into the great blue sky in search of a futile ambition called happiness.  
  
Rolling up the map, he tucked it within the folds of his clothes and set off down the unlit and hushed hall, and into the blue light of those predawn hours. Before the sun had risen, and the world turned gray under the presence of the storm clouds, the countryside was washed in a cool blue, turning everyone's skin into that strange, if not, miraculous tinge of azure.  
  
The men were waiting in the camp at the base of the mountain, at least seven thousand or so. His followers were devoted, and for this loyalty he mutely thanked him. For without men, no wars could ever be fought.  
  
Without loyalty there was nothing.  
  
A few of them stared at Sesshoumaru as he made his way down the slippery wet trail, fresh and gleaming from the latest downpour. Many of the men had never seen him, but only heard of their youkai leader from stories and word by mouth that had spread over the country. Many of his men were but simple farmers and workmen from the hills and valleys. To them, this war was only temporary—for after all, the rice crop awaited them come next spring.  
  
All had the intention to return, and Sesshoumaru, against his better half, could not tell them otherwise.  
  
Yes, some would die and some would live. Whether or not they would return to their homes next spring depended on the will and determination of these men. Some would find themselves looking at the cherry blossoms once again; others would be buried beneath them.  
  
The men's eyes, black and brown, were full of a silent strength, and Sesshoumaru smiled softly to himself. These men had yet to prove their worth.  
  
The tent closest to the mountain was where one of his generals was residing, and pulling aside the heavy canvas flap, he found the man glance up from his hunched position. From the looks of it, General Miyazawa was polishing his sword, temporarily out of business—at least until the war ended. Arima Miyazawa was a man of Sesshoumaru's past some ten years before, a man known to him on many a bloody night along the long desolate hallways of castles and back alleys in Kyoto.  
  
"This weather won't help," Miyazawa sighed, swishing the blade in the air for a moment before cleanly returning it to his hilt on his left side. Miyazawa's sword stung: its strength a scorpion. Sesshoumaru's sword sung; it was a painful beauty, it was the invisible poison. "The blasted rain will make the mountain pass difficult, and will only delay the men in the field country."  
  
Sesshoumaru, pouring himself a glass of Sake, sighed heavily, "Well then, we must only hope for the best."  
  
Miyazawa chuckled and scratched at his heavy stubble, "There is no hope that will do soldiers any good. Hope only leads to faith, and in the end, most become disappointed."  
  
Sesshoumaru sipped his Sake ever so slightly, but said nothing. There was a time in which he could have agreed with Miyazawa, but somehow, over the course of a few years, everything had changed. Yes, Miyazawa was still a friend, an ally, but somehow they no longer held that same principle and outlook on life.   
  
Sometimes one had to delude oneself just to survive. That was all that life was; survival.   
  
Above him, Sesshoumaru heard the splatter of random drops falling upon the material of the canvas tent. Taking it as a sign, Sesshoumaru withdrew the map from his garments and spread it out against the foldable table located in the center of the room. Leaning over it, Miyazawa grabbed a candle and settled himself down in a chair and studied the landscape.  
  
"So, what is the first course of action?" The general questioned, draining the rest of the youkai's cup.  
  
Sesshoumaru's long tapered nails ran along a large vein-like etching on the map, labeled 'Tenryu River'. His nails might have been the hand of God.   
  
In the ever cool, ever familiar voice, Sesshoumaru began, "As you know, Miyazawa, the key to infiltrating the Okuba Valley is to cross over this river."  
  
Miyazawa nodded, and added, "Yes, that river and its dignitaries practically divide your domains in half. Very convenient, except for the fact that we are in war and have to cross the bloody thing."  
  
Sesshoumaru grimaced, "In addition, the river is swollen from these rains. It will be quite some time until her waters have receded."  
  
Until next summer, I would surmise…  
  
"So you are saying that the only way to cross this thing is…on the bridges?" Miyazawa questioned, pointing to a number of structures that crossed the Koyou, Koten, and Yoi tributaries.  
  
"Indeed. It will be the same for Inuyasha as well. The only way to infiltrate the Setsuma and Yokone Valleys is to cross these bridges at some point or another. Wading the rapids would prove dangerous and fruitless if they were to attempt such an attack."  
  
Inuyasha is not that foolish as to risk his men in such a way…  
  
"I suppose that these damn rains have their benefits as well. But it seems like it is a double edged sword for anyone involved." Miyazawa chuckled at this last comment, but his dark black eyes were scanning the map, awaiting the cunning that Sesshoumaru kept up his sleeve.  
  
Sesshoumaru's long fingernail followed a collection of dots that seemed to demonstrate a road. It was labeled 'Minami'.  
  
"The key in this war is to ensure that our armies successfully reach and defend the Minami road. This road is the main system in and out of the Setsuma Valley, with exceptions for the Sagano pass and small mountain trails. I find it unlikely, however, that Inuyasha will manage to reach the Sagano Pass, being that he would have to follow the Seikoku Road—which leads along the rear end of the mountains and could take well over a week."  
  
But then again…Naraku could reach the Sagano Pass in no time…  
  
"Do you think he would risk the time?" Miyazawa questioned anxiously, glancing up at Sesshoumaru and his grave _expression.  
  
Inuyasha would not, but Naraku…?  
  
"I think not. I believe that both my brother and I wish for this war to end and for the victor to be decided as soon as possible. He would not draw battle out in such a way. I will inform General Inamoto that he should guard the Sagano Pass and the road leading to the Kokango Shrine. However, I believe that Inuyasha will not make a pass, at least, not coming in from the west. It is only the east, north and south that we must worry about."  
  
I lie through my teeth. Naraku is fully capable of destroying my domain…I will have to talk to Inamoto in private…  
  
"But still, you will assign Inamoto that section? I would feel relieved if you did so. War is a tricky thing, everyone is Tanuki's and Foxes—everyone can merge and change until you don't know what the hell they do."   
  
Or who the hell they are…  
  
A change came over Miyazawa for a moment; a desperate tone came to his voice, and Sesshoumaru knew that the horrors of that one-day in battle so long ago had not left him. The day those ten men had been assigned to the western entrance to the castle of Fujiwara, with Miyazawa and himself as the generals. The two of them saw all their men murdered, and Miyazawa had lost his sight in his left eye for over a year. Those images of red and black still followed him like the stench of rotting flesh.  
  
"I will assign Inamoto to the Sagano and Kokango, Miyazawa. I would not fear for Inuyasha's men if I were you. I have prepared thirty messenger birds, and can find more from Kyoto if needed. Yet, if an unforeseen attack arrives, we shall be prepared."  
  
And unforeseen attacks are very…likely…  
  
Miyazawa smiled, or strangled to do so. War had not been kind to Miyazawa, and it was only at times like this that one could see the determination within his soul; the determination to override this fear.  
  
"Continue on, Sesshoumaru-sama. What other tactics do you have with you?" Miyazawa resumed, turning his attention towards the map once again.  
  
Returning back to the Minami road, Sesshoumaru explained, "Inuyasha will be expecting us to arrive full blown in the Yamachi-Kofuchi-Tairo triangle by taking those respective bridges so that we may take the Sanemori and Yoshinaka passes to infiltrate the Okuba Valley. This is the most logical course of entry; there are only three passes into the Okuba valley, and the Yuukie pass is regarded as the most dangerous."  
  
"Which," surmised Miyazawa, "Is precisely the reason that the ablest men shall go in through the Yuukie pass?"  
  
"That is so. We will cross the Oe Bridge and cross the flatlands until we arrive at the Yuukie pass. Half of our men on this campaign will travel a ways up the Hayashi road and backtrack along a small trail that cuts through the Suiyoko mountains. I am not admitting that Inuyasha might realize our main course of action, but it is a possibility that the Oe flatlands may hold many of his men."  
  
But let us hope not…  
  
"And so, that is why those half men backtrack through the Suiyoko pass, in case the first wave is hit with Inuyasha's men?"   
  
"Exactly. They will act as a second force, and with over half our men traveling on this campaign, we are sure to win the Oe flatlands and the northern most region of the Okuba Valley. From there, if all goes correctly, your men will take the Tsuyoshi road and cut across the mountains to overtake Inuyasha's castle and much of the Okuba Valley."  
  
"And what of the remaining men at the Kofuchi-Yamachi-Tairo triangle? What will they act as?"  
  
"A diversion, of course. I shall travel with you as far as the Hayashi road and then meet General Terashima in the northern most region of Taishou Valley, near the location of the Shikon no Tama Shrine. And there, god willing, I shall meet my brother and take back what is mine."  
  
"You mean his sword of course?"  
  
I suppose I must…  
  
"What else can I take?" Sesshoumaru whispered quietly, "All that I hold dear, he already has legal claim. He may win in love, but he will loose terribly at war."  
  
If this is the only way I can wreak revenge, so be it…!  
  
Sesshoumaru's hands had turned pallid, and he released his grasp on the hilt of the sword and allowed the blood to return to flow through his veins.   
  
"That is the Sesshoumaru I remember. Always hungry for blood, always willing to do whatever it took to get what he desired." Miyazawa slapped him amiably on the back and returned to the polishing of his samurai sword. After all, Sesshoumaru, as ruler and commander of this prefecture and army, had many other matters to attend to.  
  
"Yes, I am Sesshoumaru…always hungry for blood."  
  
And blood, it seems, is the only thing I am ever allowed…  
  
It had begun to rain again, and the dim shouts of men running for cover could be heard. It was not dawn, but those blue, cold and wet hours before.  
  
With the coming of the sun, the time of reckoning would come.  
  
When the golden orb slipped over the horizon, unseen from behind the gray clouds, he would say goodbye.   


*  
  
Sounds of pots and pans echoed through the kitchen. Whispers and cries, laughing and shouting. Since midnight it had been this way, although for those first hours, all was quiet. Only the gentle boiling of stew, the cooking of chicken and vegetables, and the dull pats of rice balls being formed by gentle and patient hands could be heard. But now, with the arrival of dawn, with the exit of Sesshoumaru, the kitchen had sprung to life again.  
  
Fujiko, heaving a large heavy pot full of steaming stew onto an oxcart and tying it securely down with rough twine, called, "Have you finished, Kagome-sama? Oba-chan?"  
  
An old wrinkled lady popped up her head and smiled, the youth still evident in her movements. "Almost, Fujiko-chan, I am making sure we have enough pickled vegetables. You know how much those boys eat. It's a good thing that the members from the village contributed."  
  
Kagome laughed and wiped her forehead, her body nearly covered in rice flour from preparing mochi, "It was so sweet of them to help. We surely would not have been able to feed seven thousand or so men all by ourselves."  
  
The old lady nodded, and stood up, bringing over a large bucket filled with grilled fish and attached it to the oxcart.  
  
"The other women and children… when are they coming again?" Fujiko questioned, jumping up to help Oba-chan with the heavy grilled fish.  
  
Kagome, putting the last batch of mochi into a large pot full of broth, thought for a moment, "At five I believe. The men leave at six thirty, so hopefully the other women can finish feeding the men at their posts in about half an hour."  
  
Fujiko nodded, and grinned, "That should be no problem. The whole village helped out with this one. It is the least the women and children can do."  
  
A flush from the exercise and haste had come to the woman's cheeks, and their movements became quicker. Already the light had become gray, thick with the oncoming of dawn.  
  
Five minutes later, the darkened silhouettes of three women, all in varying stages of maturity, made their way down the side of the mountain, slipping in the mud a number of times. Kagome, who could not help but laugh, grinned softly to herself as she lead the way with the oxcart down the path. Oba-chan and Fujiko held and secured the rear, and as the three made their way down into the darkness, Kagome realized that for the first time, she was becoming part of a family.  
  
She was becoming a commoner.  
  
How long had she wished for such a thing? To be accepted as a normal person?   
  
Her simple country clothes were dripping in mud by the time they reached the first canvas tent, and as wet and as soaked as the three women were themselves. They may have fallen many a time, but their spirits soared above the clouds, for reasons none could quite understand.  
  
A young man of fifteen saw them first, and his eyes lit up with a fire that not even the rain could extinguish. Pumping his legs, he rushed to their sides and exclaimed, "Come, let me help you!"  
  
Replying merrily, Kagome suggested, "All we need is a dry place to distribute the food."  
  
The young man laughed, and exclaimed, his cheeks becoming redder by the moment as he gazed at Kagome, "My tent is as good as any, I suppose."   
  
Helping Kagome with the oxcart he called out, "Look, Soijiro! No rice gruel today!"  
  
A young man of similar character popped his head out from a tent with a confused look on his face, but then a broad grin spread forth. Jumping out into the rain, he immediately rushed to help.  
  
And then the men appeared like the flowers of April and May, all willing to participate, all commenting on the lovely odor of the food, the kindness of the ladies, and the fairness of the weather.  
  
"Now, now!" Kagome called out over the shoulders of men, "Form a line and get your bowls and plates from your tent! We have more than enough for everyone!"  
  
Shouts and cheers issued forth, and Kagome glowed with pleasure as she scooped out the grilled fish and mochi to those who had already grabbed their bowls.  
  
Five minutes had passed; the line dwindling somewhat to only a large crowd, and the smile on Kagome's face had yet to be extinguished. Then, suddenly, the shouts and cheers and discussions of the men went quiet, and the large mass of bodies parted, until a glimmer of silver caught the gray light, and the flash of red illuminated the blue and grey uniforms.  
  
His eyes were emotionless and cold, and for a moment, Kagome found that she did not know this man. He was a stranger to her in every way. But slowly she recognized him as the man she had met on her first day in his fortress. The cold, angry, and brutal demon, the demon who gave nothing away, the demon that was quick and cunning with words.   
  
She stepped back in uncertainty, irresolute of her what her actions would be. Hesitant of what they should be.  
  
"What the devil do you think you are doing here?" He snapped angrily, spreading his arms out to indicate the food as well. His voice was filled with tension like the clouds above their heads.  
  
But, Kagome had braved the weather, and she would brave the temper of the youkai as well.  
  
"I," Kagome replied sternly, though not angrily, "Have brought food for your men in this portion of the camp. Fujiko and Oba-san helped as well."  
  
"And did I give you permission to do this?" Sesshoumaru questioned, crossing his arms, his eyes still in thin and livid slits.  
  
"No. And I need none, not from you, or anyone!" Kagome answered, crossing her own arms, ladle still in her hand, her eyes just as fiery.  
  
"You disregard your lord?" His voice was now taunting, furious, and bitter. Whether or not he was serious, Kagome could not tell. Then again, it was very unlikely that Sesshoumaru would joke about such a thing.  
  
"You are not my lord!" She yelled angrily, slamming the ladle down into the pot and glaring up at him, "Nor shall you ever be! No one rules me!"  
  
Gasps emitted from the crowd of men, some of them were smiling, and others were looking at her in wonder, some in incredulity.  
  
Fujiko, who had been watching the exchange between the two (as had most of the camp) took this opportunity and rushed forward, grabbed onto Kagome's arm and pulled her back somewhat.  
  
"Please forgive us, Sesshoumaru-sama! We thought that you would be pleased with this! It is all the women and children can do for their family, and some might…some might not see them…aga—,"  
  
"Stop there." Sesshoumaru commanded, gazing down at her, "There is no need to carry on."  
  
"Please forgive Kagome on my account, Lord Sesshoumaru. We only wished to help."   
  
Tears pricked at Fujiko's eyes, though they were hardly visible, for she bent her head humbly before her lord. Kagome, on the other hand, was still glaring up at Sesshoumaru, although her expression had softened somewhat.  
  
For a long still moment there was only the sound of the light rain and the men's breathing.   
  
Then, turning on his heel, Sesshoumaru murmured, "Do as you wish. Next time consult me on the matter."  
  
He walked a few yards, paused and turned around. His eyes had lost the malice and anger and self-confidence. A twinkle of emotion shone within their amber depths, and turning to glance back at Kagome, he called, "Meet me in the courtyard in an hour."  
  
She met his eyes for a brief moment, and in that period of time she too felt an emotion well up inside her breast. The words Kagome had spoken were angry and rash, and regret fell about her now like the rain.  
  
Looking away, hoping to hide her tears, she nodded and began to serve the food once again.  
  
Studying her a moment longer, his features turned cold and ruthless as they had forever been, and he made his way once again towards the general's tent to notify him of the tactics and carrier birds that would be directed in his service.  
  
"Now, Sesshoumaru, there is no time for this. Forget the girl. See only the war ahead…only the war…," he whispered to himself, stiffly and indignantly. His movements became more hurried, and he even knocked into a few people in his haste. He did not pause, did not even look back. For looking back, looking back would only bring regrets.  
  
General Miyazawa stepped above a man who had been knocked aside in Sesshoumaru's wrath, and explained, "Do not despise the youkai; he has learned too late in life what really matters."  
  
The foot-solider and the general watched the youkai through the trees, a youkai trying to escape the past and find a future. A future that the world would not bring.  
  
The clouds opened up once again and the drops echoed in the brown puddles. The ripples of the first were forgotten by the second, and the third, the forth, the fifth, the sixth…until it was just a blur of movements.  
  
  
*  
  
The white of the canvas tents were like fireworks in the night: visible, even in the darkness.  
  
"Do you see them, Sango?" Rin questioned, holding on to the edge of a cliff. Her bright eyes glowed with the recognition of the valley which lay before her, with the barely visible fortress high on the mountainside.  
  
"Yes. So this is the famed Valley of Setsuma; just as impressive as I would have imagined. But we must be quick. They will set out at dawn, and we do not know if Kagome will go with them," Sango replied, brushing a speckle of mud from her cheeks as she made her way back to the sheltering pine tree that that most of the party had been standing beneath for cover.  
  
Miroku, chewing on a piece of tofu he had purchased from the nearby town, remarked, "Do you expect us to travel across this valley unseen and undetected…before dawn?" He questioned it in such a manner that it did not seem as though he was not incredulous, just curious as to their direction and course of action.  
  
Kouga, who was squatting on the ground and chewing on an apple core, grumbled, "Well if we're gonna do it, let's do it now. We don't have enough time as it is!"  
  
There was a crack of lightening, and jumping in surprise, Rin looked up at Shippou and whispered, "I'm scared, Shippou. What will happen? Do you suppose we will reach his fortress in time?"  
  
Shippou grinned slowly and gently placed his hand atop her shoulder, "Don't worry, Rin. Whatever happens, happens. There is nothing we can do to control fate." Looking down at her, he flushed slightly and added, "I will protect you."  
  
Then came the thunder. And with that roaring boom, the party set out, climbing along the mossy and muddy trails. They skirted the campsites, falling along the rocks, slipping in the water, the overflowing streams. The trees raged at them, as though they themselves were soldiers, bound and determined to halt the procession.  
  
Kouga led the way, followed by Rin, who knew the region better then anyone. Sango followed Rin, and after that there was Miroku, Shippou, and the remains of Kouga's men, who talked jovially to themselves about similar anecdotes.  
  
Through the thick pine trees, the party could see glimpses of activities: the men sharpening their swords and battle axes, the caretakers of the horses loading the saddles and brushing the coats, men were eating in their tents, the front flaps thrown open.  
It was a miniature world that few rarely beheld, for this world only sprung when the scent of blood called out to them from afar.  
  
As the party continued to walk, Kouga, the leader of the group, thought of how far the party had traveled in such a short amount of time. Any way that had been possible, probable or even unlikely, the group had taken. If the roads had been difficult they had borrowed horses, if the roads had been impassible they had constructed rafts or paid fishermen for use of their boats. If the weather proved terrible, with flooding or great sun—they continued on, for a cause that they were all equally unsure of.  
  
But there was a common goal: the goal to get their revenge upon Naraku in any way possible. Revenge, thought Kouga, did not necessarily mean death, did it? Revenge meant making something so unforgettable and irksome that the bastard would not try the same tactic before. Revenge meant spoiling his plans; revenge meant stabbing him in the back and smiling down at the surprised and tortured face. Revenge, there was no meaning to revenge, only actions.  
  
Holding onto a tree trunk for support to help him up the slippery slope, Kouga spat angrily, "I tell you, Miroku, once this is over; I am returning to my home land and finding a girl!"  
  
Although he could not see the traveling monk, Kouga guessed his expression: amused and curious.  
  
"What does what we are doing now have anything to do with finding a girl?" Miroku called from down the hill.  
  
"Well, I need to make sure the bloodline is passed on so, if one of these damn adventures should ever happen again, I know my name won't die with me." He nearly fell into the mud, but at the last moment he grabbed onto an overhead branch above. The path up the mountain was nearly vertical.  
  
"Kouga, are you okay?" Rin questioned anxiously. He could feel her cold wet hands against his back. They seemed to stick to him just as his clothes did.  
  
"I'm fine." Kouga coughed, glancing back at Rin who was smiling up at him, rivers of water from the rain trailing down her face.  
  
He grinned, and for a fleeting moment, Kouga thought to himself that he needed not travel so far as home to find a wife…  
  
But then, he shifted his eyes, and saw the glare of death being emitted from Shippou and he realized that there was no hope, at least, as far as Rin was concerned. Even though the damned fox demon was annoying and a coward (at least when it came to wolf-youkai), the boy would not relinquish his female. The damned fox would actually fight over her, and Kouga didn't particularly feel like embarrassing him in front of his lady.  
  
Flashing a grin back at Shippou, he winked, as though to say, 'don't worry, she's yours.' Shippou, who did not seem to understand, just blinked for a moment.  
  
Heaving a sigh, Kouga looked up the trail and found that in a few hundred yards the party would reach the top, and hopefully, it would not be as damned slippery as it was here. Reaching out for the next tree trunk on which to lean against, Kouga called back, "Come on, let's show this damned hill!"  
  
And with that, in all his wolf-like speed, he sped up the climb in a blink of an eye. The rest of his pack from farther below bellowed and hooted for their leader, and would have done the same if Kouga had not called down that it was their duty to ensure that everyone arrived at the top.  
  
There were moans and groans, but it was hardly perceptible, for the rain came down even harder now. It was as though with each step they took closer towards the domain of Sesshoumaru, the more nature was pulling them back. It was as though nature begged, "Please, give me time, give me time. Just a bit more. Just a bit, I beg you."  
  
But the rain drowned out anything audible, and they pushed forward, even though their time had not come. Even though the world was not ready for their entrance.   
  
Even though…  
  
Suddenly, there was a scream, a shout, a loud crash of branches, and through the raindrops Kouga saw a flash of white and blue and black. It was Rin. She was falling down the hill and toward the edge of encampment…  
Hope, like the moth it was, became lost to the power of the flame…  
  
*  
  
The silk of her kimono reminded her of the scene beyond the shoji screens. They depicted the wet atmosphere, the flooded rivers, thick with rain from high in the mountains, the reeds flailing pathetically among the sudden gusts, the world cloaked and hidden in a thin gauze of gray and blue. There was no heron waiting in the pond now, it had forsaken its belly in search of shelter. It had gone against its heart and instead had listened to its head.   
Looking down at her sleeves, at the random and organically shaped patterns, splashes of rain and ink almost like tear drops or splattered tea against a piece of paper, she thought dimly of how different her attire had been from the one she had worn earlier in the morn. The fog and the rain and the wind, the grasses, the river—she had become them now.  
  
At that point in time, she had not been the rain, but the earth that it touched. She had not been high towering above the people, looking down below them, a placid _expression of gray upon her features. She had been part of the earth, a blend of all things, of the rain and the soil and the trees.  
  
But in the end…was it not just a delusion, a romantic ideal that she chased? The thought of starving if the rice-crop was dire, being forced to marry the local village boy (although somehow, she found her situation no better), the idea that a specified amount of their earnings went to the landlord—all were the realities that at times she chose not to see. Kagome knew that she preferred only to see what she wished to, and this was probably a habit that had been formed every since she was a child. She had money, and if she wished it, the sun could be the moon, and the moon the sun.  
  
But she was distracting herself. She had no time for such thoughts. That moment in her life was over and done with, and although it could never be repeated, it was, she supposed, allowed to be treasured somewhere deep in the darkest depths of her heart.  
  
Looking into the mirror, she ran her hand along the curvilinear design in the kimonos silk. She stepped back into her social class nearly instantaneously.  
  
Fujiko, who had helped her with the many intricate layers of the kimono, gently tied her hair in a simple gray ribbon and excused herself.  
  
Pausing at the door, the young woman leaned against the screen and whispered gently, "He will come back, Kagome-sama."  
  
Glancing up from her kneeled position, she nodded slowly and whispered, "I know he will return…"  
  
Yes, there was no hesitation in her heart where that was concerned. Sesshoumaru would survive the trauma of war; he would survive the blood and death, and return even more shining then before.  
  
It was not a question of Sesshoumaru's return, but of hers.  
  
Fujiko had left her now and she was alone in the room. It had stopped raining for the time period, and the world was trying unsuccessfully to dry off.   
  
Drip.  
  
Drop.  
  
Drip.  
  
He said to meet me in an hour. Has an hour passed?  
  
Plop.  
  
If I go, what would he say? His goodbyes?  
  
Drip.  
  
Yes. He would say goodbye. There is no doubt. I have to smile.  
  
Drop.  
  
I have to smile for his sake and mine. I have to be strong, as are all women in times of war.  
  
Drip.  
  
Smile…for him…  
  
Drop.  
  
Standing smoothly, her eyes glancing up at a soaked bough of an overhanging Cyprus tree, she made her way through the dwelling she had come to know so well. Even in the interminable weeks in Inuyasha's abode, she had never noticed the grain in the wood, the texture to the screen doors, the floorboards that creaked. She could make her way through this place blind folded. Slipping into a pair of slightly damp wooden sandals, she walked across the dripping world, and out into the dreary foggy abyss. The clouds rolled over the hills, swift and smooth. The nearby pine trees were all but covered in their gauze, and only once in a while did their inky depths peak through.  
  
There, in a place that was like she was on another planet, she saw his form arrive through the dim. It was like a Chinese painting of old, that lone figure, standing there, gazing in awe at all that surrounded them. She only wished, bitterly, that she could see through this fog and to the future that her life held.  
  
Standing there, quietly among the gravel scattered courtyard, she did not move. Kagome only watched as he moved closer to her, each step becoming more and more defined. The gentle crunch of the gravel beneath his feet…  
  
The whisper of his clothes…  
  
His silver hair seemed to blend with the fog that surrounded the two of them, a curtain from the world. Next, his attire, a pristine white happi coat with the seal of his house scattered randomly about it in deep blue ink.  
  
Sesshoumaru's golden eyes appeared last, glowing like coals in the night. Never had she seen so much _expression within their depths, and she could say or think nothing. He was no longer the stranger as he had been an hour ago. He was the Sesshoumaru that Kagome remembered and knew; the one that brought her heart pain, pain that she would have no other way.  
  
It was self-inflicted torture, this romance of theirs.  
  
He stopped two feet away and peered sternly down at her. She was speechless and avoided his eyes although they cut off all words, all emotions. Her heart tightened.  
  
"We leave soon," Sesshoumaru began his voice purposely cool like the mist. The demon was hiding his emotions, proving to the world that he had none.  
  
"I know," she found herself replying quickly, glancing down at his hands that lay relaxed by his sides. The claws glinted in the weak bluish light of morning. Soon, they would be stained with blood that would take time for it to be washed clean, "With the sun."  
  
"Yes."  
  
He wanted to hold her. He wanted to take her in his arms and make her swear that she would be here when he returned. Sesshoumaru had no doubt in his mind that he would see this courtyard again. If the door to his heart were torn open, would she be there, smiling serenely? Unable to detect even his own destination, with a slender thread he gradually draw back to himself the memories that were fading into the wind.  
  
Sesshoumaru could not touch her. He did not want to. He had never enjoyed such painful-tenderness.  
  
"I wish you luck," Kagome whispered, grasping down at the long sleeves to her blue kimono, the one that matched the color of her eyes when they were sad. Even simple compassion had grown to be more than she could bear.  
  
"I will tell my men." Sesshoumaru was quick, cruel and slashing, and dimly in the back of his mind he wished to tell her more, he wished to convey every sentiment, but his character could not allow him to do so. He could say nothing, and neither could she. Ah, such pain was never felt more acutely as this.  
  
The image of blue and silver, silent among the hill, their breaths soon forgotten to the indistinct fog, the light in their eyes gone and extinguished by their fears that plagued their heart like a merciless angel.   
  
But everything was broken in that moment, the moment that the gravel crunched with such ferocity that the two seemed jolted out of their own world. And yet, the two were in another place to begin with that such a disturbance could only seen strange and unseen. The steps approached with such speed that before the two could realize it, the figure had pressed upon them.   
  
Sesshoumaru looked down, his eyes momentarily flashing with regret as his placid face turned temporarily annoyed at the sight of one of his men. The man himself had a thin layer of moisture atop his brow, and his clothes had begun to stick to him slightly.   
  
Obvious, he had run far and hard.  
  
"My lord…!" he exclaimed, dropping to a bow, sweat dripping off his forehead onto the gravel beneath him.  
  
"Yes, what is it?" Sesshoumaru questioned, facing him now his arms crossed, the familiar air of disdain and assuredness returning like the northern winds.   
  
"We have captured a group of trespassers from the western encampment! What do you wish to be done with them?" The man eyed Sesshoumaru anxiously and squirmed under the harsh watch. The lord was known throughout the lands as a most vicious and cold-blooded killer.  
  
"Did they resist?" He questioned, slightly alarmed, although not so much as to display any show of outside emotion. His eyes flickered to Kagome's face and he held her gaze for an interminable second before wrenching it away. Now was no time for regret, not with war fast on his heals…  
  
The man shook his head. They had not.  
  
"Bring them to me so that I may see them, and then I shall decide their fate." Sesshoumaru replied swiftly. He had no time for this. The men were to leave in less than twenty minutes. Soon the sun would rise from behind the confounded clouds, and he would be off to face his brother in war.  
  
The man jogged away from them a few yards after bowing curtly. Hollering down the mountain, he exclaimed, "Bring 'em up, Susumu!"  
  
Kagome, bowing her head, began to move aside back in the direction of the house. She, like the water she was dressed in, would slip away, unnoticed, and pool at the bottom of the hill somewhere, eventually, as all things did, making her way to the great ocean…  
  
I am not needed here. I only get in the way. This is war…I do not belong here…I only make things more difficult…  
  
"Where do you think you are going?"  
  
She felt his warm fingers wrap around her arm, strongly and firmly. A tingle rushed through her body and she could feel the conviction in his touch. Looking up, Kagome whispered, "I was going to—,"  
  
"You are going nowhere. You are staying by my side."  
  
He was solemn, and pulling her onward she noticed that his hand remained on her arm. Slowly, it traveled down the length of her sleeve until only their fingers dimly touched, almost invisible to the eye. There was love discrete, even in public.   
  
"Susumu is bringin' 'em up now, my Lord. I must say, they were an odd bunch of folk, although maybe they are supposed to seem weird so we'll trust them." The servant laughed and chuckled while scratching his stubble in an amused and jovial manner. Such agreeable attitudes in this situation…  
  
Kagome looked down at her hand, his long tapered nails glinting, and smiled to herself. He wanted her by his side.  
  
"We shall see." Sesshoumaru answered curtly, his golden eyes flashing down to Kagome, his mouth forming a slight grin. A second later, however, a large shape became distinct through the fog, in addition to a general murmur of voices. A few moments later it became apparent that a large party of trespasser's had been found.  
  
"How interesting…" Sesshoumaru murmured, his deep voice filled with interests. Several different scents stung at his nose, that of a wolf, a fox, and oh, numerous others that he found that he could not discern almost immediately. This fact disturbed him greatly for there had once been a time during his life when such a thing would have been easy.  
  
"Sesshoumaru!!" someone hollered.  
  
The youkai's eyes flashed with recognition, and stepping forward in alarm, he whispered, "No, it can't be…"  
  
But even as he spoke the words, even as they left his mouth, there she appeared. Rin.  
  
Jumping forward, and unrestrained by the guards, her eyes pricked with tears that seemed to wash away the mud and the filth on the garments (if they dared be called that) that she wore.  
  
"Sesshoumaru-sama! I'm really sorry! I fell down the hill and they thought we were spies, and we needed to get here anyways to tell you that—,"  
  
Yet she did not finish for her words were cut off by a strangled cry that soon became a sob and almost instantaneously Sesshoumaru's direction was turned towards Kagome. What other surprises would they find?   
  
"M-Miroku?!"  
  
Before Sesshoumaru could even formulate words, Kagome jumped forward in a movement of elegance and grace. There was the crunch of gravel as she ran towards a distinctly male form. The two embraced in a dull thud. Sesshoumaru stiffened noticeably but remained calm and restrained, his hand resting atop Rin's shoulder. There would be time for questions and that time was now.  
  
"But, how? Why are you here?" Kagome cried, pulling away from the embrace and wiping the tears from her eyes. But it was no use, the tears fell without mercy, and her smile could not be extinguished. "I missed you so much! B-But why are you here? How did you get here?"  
  
Miroku smiled sadly and cupped Kagome's face in his leathered palms as he rested his forehead gently atop it.  
  
"That is something I am also interested in…" Sesshoumaru responded, finally, as he eyed Rin with some trepidation, "As I do recall, you are supposed to be in Kyoto…" His grasp upon her shoulder became more heavy and his _expression stormy, his displeasure evident; he waited for his answer.  
  
As it turned out, he would not have to wait long.  
  
Rin jumped forward now, prepared. "But Sesshoumaru! We had to come and find you! We had to tell you that Naraku—,"  
  
"Is a traitor?" Sesshoumaru whispered, eyes closed as he finished the sentence, a sudden squall having risen. His hair fluttered in the breeze, and when his eyes opened again, they were emotionless and dark. "Yes, I am well aware of exactly who my enemies are."  
  
Everyone inhaled sharply, their breaths caught like time.  
  
Sango, who Kagome had just noticed standing primly behind some rough looking man she had never seen before, ventured forth, "How did you know…?"  
  
"More precisely," Sesshoumaru questioned, stepping forward, "How did you?"  
  
All were quiet…and finally, the rugged looking man from the rear spoke for the first time in his deep, thick resonating voice, "Since no one else seems to want to do the talking, I'm going to. As it is, we don't have any time."  
  
"Then do so. The horses and men ride towards the east in twenty minutes." Sesshoumaru explained, as he, in unmatched interest, allowed his eyes to meander about the group.   
  
There was Rin, of course, and what appeared to be a fox youkai with sandy brown hair and a keen _expression on his face standing by her side. Sesshoumaru's thin lips turned slightly down. That fox was standing a bit too close to Rin for comfort, but then again, the monk who Kagome had embarrassed so tenderly still had his hand on her shoulder. His frown deepened even more.  
  
There was the woman, in what appeared to be youkai exterminator clothing (but he would see to her later) and finally, the man, no, wolf youkai who was speaking now, his men standing casually behind him.  
  
"My name is Kouga, and I am the leader of the wolf clan in the south. I'm only here to seek revenge on Naraku who destroyed my homeland. I met up with these two," he made a broad sweep to the traveling monk and exterminator, "On my way down to Kyoto to appeal to the Shogun."  
  
Sesshoumaru snorted, "No Shogun would see one who wears pelts for clothes."  
  
The men calmed their leader, who looked as though he would have killed Sesshoumaru right there in cold blood. From that point on, the wandering monk (who still had his hand on Kagome's shoulder) continued in his place, "I am Miroku, advisor to Lord Inuyasha. I was called away when Kagome left his fortress without permission to aid the Shizuoka prefecture," He took this moment in time to give Kagome a very disgruntled look, though Sesshoumaru was almost tempted to smile at Kagome yet again demonstrating her self-sufficient nature. The monk continued on after a moment, "Where Sango (he motioned to the exterminator) lives. By the time I got there, Naraku had already kidnapped her and planted her here."  
  
"And does Inuyasha know of her disappearance? Let alone her whereabouts?" Sesshoumaru questioned, inquisitiveness only hinted in his voice, although he was frantic to find this information.  
  
"To the best of our knowledge, no." It was the exterminator or Sango as she was called, who spoke now.  
  
Miroku continued, "I knew I had to find Kagome. It was my duty, and so this group was formed (he now pointed to the wolf clan standing a few feet away). While on the road, we met Rin and Shippou who had met in Kyoto and were both going to warn you about Naraku's alliance with Inuyasha."  
  
"But it seems like we did all of this for nothing." Kouga, the wolf youkai snorted, as he kicked some gravel. The group did not argue with that statement, and the lord was the last person to disagree with them. Yes, their purpose had been in vain, but they still had other wishes, that he was sure of…  
  
"Your intentions were honorable, but it would seem fruitless," Sesshoumaru sighed deeply, running his hand through his silver locks, "The war begins in less than ten minutes, we ride at dawn, and only in battle with the truth be revealed to my brother."  
  
The fog poured in from the hills, and the dim cry of the men far below in the valley reminded each person that the world continued on, whether or not there presence was needed.  
  
"Well then…" Shippou spoke for the first time, his voice full of intent although perhaps not as deep as 'Miroku's' or 'Kouga's', "Lord Sesshoumaru, I was wondering if I could stay at your fortress until the war draws to a close."  
  
How very bold, Sesshoumaru thought to himself. It was something he appreciated in people; to be direct and state the truth, but this was not to say he liked the annoying fox youkai that stood to close to Rin.  
  
It seemed that the rest of the group seemed rather taken aback with Shippou's question as well, and they looked at him in incredulity and disbelief. Kouga chuckled, and Miroku just smirked to himself, although Sango's reaction was a bit more conservative.   
  
"You realize, that could be months," Sesshoumaru pointed out, eyeing the sandy haired youkai with some concern. He seemed awfully headstrong, perhaps too much so.  
  
"I will earn my keep. I am useful." He insisted, stepping forward. He added, his cheeks turning red, "I wish to stay at Rin's side, and if this is where she stays, I will do so as well."  
  
Although, Sesshoumaru reasoned, being too bold was often times disconcerting and off-putting.   
  
Had Sesshoumaru had a reaction, it would have been extraordinary, but as it was, he turned his head and looked once more towards the wandering monk. He seemed the only one that had anything intelligent to say, although it was indeed cumbersome that the youkai's hand seemed to become a permanent fixture of Kagome's shoulder.  
  
"And what…" Sesshoumaru paused, his gaze fixed on Miroku. He knew the answer to this question, but nevertheless, it had to be asked, "Are your intentions?"  
  
"To return to Inuyasha's domain, along with Kagome. She must be returned before Inuyasha becomes aware of the situation. If he was to find out…" Miroku's dark chocolate colored eyes met Sesshoumaru's golden ones, and there was an understanding. Miroku seemed intelligent enough to have discovered his and Kagome's rapport, and he seemed like the type of man who took such an occurrence in stride. Yet, duty weighed more than matters of the heart, and there was no room for mourning.  
  
The monk said no more.  
  
Yes, the answer was there, as was the decision. There was no other path in and out of this mountain save one, and that was the road that had to be taken, though it was littered with water and muck, there was no other way.  
  
There is no other way…none. Do not wish for the past.  
  
"Then you and your companions must leave immediately, before my soldiers take over the surrounding territory and make the journey more difficult." The voice almost dripped with coldness, iciness and over all disconcert. It was the ways that all lords presented themselves to those who were lower than him, and although Sesshoumaru knew he had not convinced Kagome, the rest seemed satisfied. All save Miroku, who sighed deeply and bowed his head, almost in regret.  
  
Do not look at her, do not look at her, do not look at her…Sesshoumaru whispered silently to himself, his golden eyes moving hastily about the group, hunting an invisible object.  
  
"Feel free to restock on any supplies that you need, but do so quickly. I have no time for you as it is." And the chase was on, above the tops of their head, to the ground, to all their faces—except hers, and her eyes that matched the rain. Sesshoumaru's grip tightened and he motioned for them to take their leave.   
  
Do not look…do not…  
  
"As for you, Rin, we shall discuss your behavior at a more opportune moment. Being that I have no guards for you in my absence, you (he nodded to Shippou) will be her protector. And, foolish boy, if she so much has a scratch, you shall be torn limb from limb. That is a promise." And finally, he resigned to this chase, for he had long grown bored with it. Instead, he closed his eyes and blocked out the world of whiteness into one of black.  
  
If you look, you shall become weak. You are strong. You are Sesshoumaru, Lord of the Western Lands, and you will not be defeated by the mere sight of a woman…  
  
"Now leave, restock, and take whatever provisions that you need. I have grown tired of your presence already." It was true. He was tired of covering his tracks through the snow when he himself found the whole thing absurd. Yes, he was a lord, yes, he held power like the neck of a human—but when it came to matters of his heart, well, indeed, there was when the hunters found him and stripped him off all self-dignity.  
  
Perhaps she will follow them as well.   
  
Sesshoumaru hardly heard the thanks and the heartfelt gratitude that all expressed, Kagome having blended amongst them, her head turned down; a lily of the valley amongst the weeds. She was probably fighting back tears. Never once had he been so…so nice. Yes, there was no other word for it, he had been nice. For probably the first and last time in his life, he had allowed himself to fall prey to such an emotion. Why? Because he wanted her to leave. He didn't want to see her face ever again.  
  
Why?  
  
Because if he ignored her…  
  
Perhaps I can forget…perhaps I will forget her face by the end of it…  
  
Damn. There was no escape. He was being chased, swiftly, by an invisible enemy. It was there, on his doorstep, looking up at him with hypnotic eyes, usually cerulean, but now gray. She had blended with the weather, becoming more subtle and concealed. And damn it all, he had fallen for it.  
  
His plan had not worked. She remained. By his side.  
  
But somehow, he would have it no other way.  
  
Forcing himself, he looked at her, her head bowed down, her hair falling over her shoulder revealing her pale skin on the back of her neck.  
  
"So…" She said, softly, her voice the sound of rain, "This is the end…"  
  
"It is the end." He repeated.  
  
"And we shall see each other no more." She continued on. "What we had shall be forgotten."  
  
She looked up now, and he was startled to see her eyes dry.  
  
"The tears will come later," she explained, almost harshly, almost with regret.  
  
To cry over him? Was such a thing worth it?  
  
"I will remember." Sesshoumaru began, looking down at her, his emotionless face giving nothing away. Not a stone out of line, not a brick out of place. He was impassive, cold and unforgiving, at least, on the surface. "I will tell myself not to do so…but you will haunt me. I do not ignore my weaknesses."   
  
The two were quiet, and for a moment it was only them on that foggy mountainside. It was their world, their world of whiteness and sorrow. There was only the pure colorless world that surrounded them.  
  
But then, the wind blew from the east, and with that wind came the footsteps of the returned party. Time was playing tricks on them. A minute was ten, a second a minute.  
  
The party was fast, as Sesshoumaru had instructed them so. He liked his pain quick and to the point, and now, the hurt was to end and he would only suffer for the rest of his days. What was an eternity of pain? Nothing. It only proved your worth.  
  
"Come, Kagome, let's go!" Miroku called, wearing a deep brown coat over his attire, one he had taken from Sesshoumaru's stock.  
  
Sango, dressed in similar earth tones, looked back at her. She knew, for she was a female too, what had happened on this hill and what was about to become undone. The red string of fate was unraveling and becoming tighter by the moment.   
  
Kouga and his men arrived now; their nearly acquired satchels full of provisions, and smiles have sprouted upon their tired and dirtied faces.  
  
"What are we waiting for?" the leader called to Sesshoumaru and Kagome from across the courtyard. Motioning to Kagome, he set off towards the directed path.  
  
"Come." Sango called almost sternly to Kouga, the leader, "She will catch up. We have brought her clothes to change into, but she must say her goodbyes."  
  
Kagome shivered. She hated such a word. Goodbye. As if saying farewell could ever be filled with happiness. Goodbye.   
  
Miroku nodded and motioned Kouga and his men forward, "We will wait for you at the bottom of the hill. But Kagome, don't take long." His eyes were sad as he left…  
  
Looking after them, she nodded quickly and watched them as they followed a small path that hung at the edge of the mountain until it reached a small creek bed. There, at the water, would she meet them.  
  
The footsteps had almost died away, and glancing up at Sesshoumaru she found that he had not taken his eyes off of her.  
  
But she could say nothing. There was nothing to do, nothing to say.   
  
It seemed as though their time for goodbyes was over, and dimly, Kagome thought of the piece of paper that lay atop his cypress desk and would meet him upon his return to his domain. Whether or not the war was in his favor, he would find that piece of parchment…  
  
Within that folded piece of paper was everything she wished to say, but could not. Those strokes and characters were insufficient, as were her own words. In fact, there seemed to be nothing in the world to describe such an emotion, but such was life. Surely, Sesshoumaru could understand, and she hoped that what she had managed to spill out, in-between tears and long periods of recovery would make sense.  
  
Her fingers desperately felt for the piece of amber colored glass about her neck, cool to the touch, and clutching it, she whispered something in his ear.  
  
A smile tore at his lips, a true smile, the first and last Kagome was to ever see, as though he was trying to hide any bliss within his soul. She felt his arms gently wound about her body and hold her softly as though she was something precious and fragile to him. Kagome wanted to remember this moment until her death, for none could replace his arms, his scent, his eyes…to her; she was his…and no other. Even if life was to continue on, even if Inuyasha should take the place, as the one she shared her bed with, even if she should have children, grow old and frail and weak, she would retain these memories to the last…she could not disperse of them. Without them, she was incomplete, just a shell, hallow and cold and emotionless.  
  
The two stayed like that for some time, though hardly long enough, Kagome's head buried against his chest and listening to the beating of his heart. Sesshoumaru, his head knelt against hers, tried to remember her scent and let it become an ingrained part of his being.  
  
She pulled away, slowly, and from within the folds of her kimono she produced a necklace. A stone, the color of her eyes, glinted on a chain. It was the twin of that which she wore about her neck, and dimly, although unwillingly, her thoughts fled back to that night…the night at the temple, their world aglow with lights of dreams and reality. Sesshoumaru felt her lean forward, her weight pressed against his body, and stand upon her toes as she clasped the necklace around his neck.  
  
And then, he snapped.   
  
All self-control was lost…  
Sesshoumaru was standing very still, almost as if he were afraid that if he moved, he would scare Kagome away. His chest shuddered as he let out a breath he'd been holding so long that it had made him dizzy, and the breath misted between them. The fog around them would not dissipate and it only seemed to grow thicker now in this moment of solitude. Kagome smiled delicately and moved closer so that Sesshoumaru felt against his lips, and then he pressed closer.  
Very fragile, it was given an otherworldly cast in the swirling fog that threatened to spirit them away.  
Kagome's eyes widened and then closed slowly at the first brush of Sesshoumaru's tongue against her lower lip, and she finally moved, responding to something she had at first not known how to react to. The darkness and hunger that he had felt within his body for so long was overcome by her love, by her scent, by her passion that she too held. Sesshoumaru opened his mouth even further and held Kagome even closer, eyes closed now, breathing faster, almost nervous.

He craned his neck father, deeper into her…  
It wasn't a long kiss, just an exposed taste, and then Kagome was pulling away, the tip of her tongue brushing his own lips in a subconscious effort to prolong it. And yet, the end was inevitable as the sun.  
The valley was torn apart in that moment. Time had stopped.  
And it began again. So fast and so sudden that both were caught off guard in a swirl of emotions and reality. The time had come…  
  
Each jumped back in surprise as the echo of a gunshot ricocheted throughout the hills. It echoed, softly…softly…until it disappeared.  
  
A drop landed on Kagome's arm and as Sesshoumaru's cheek. They slid down their skin with maddening slowness, the first tears of the war…and neither wiped them away, but instead allowed them to dry and become absorbed, as all would eventually be.  
  
It was beginning to rain once again. The drop of confusion and chaos turning into drops, and finally, the downpour.  
  
Turning, Kagome tore herself form his side and walked a few feet and glanced back. Her heart had yet to calm from their embrace, and her lips were swollen and red. Grasping her necklace, she shivered. She could still feel his lips against her own, his arms about her. Even from such a distance his gaze still saw through her soul and all its workings and desires. He was still there, watching her go, an agonized expression upon his face, one she would never see again. She would never see that face; those eyes in such a way…for only the greatest sorrow could have been the cause.  
  
The drops came down harder and harder, and she was grateful. One after another fell atop her, coating her skin, her clothes, her hair, her eyes…but it was no use…she had lied; the tears would not come later. They were already starting now. She was thankful for the rain, only the hint of redness about her eyes gave away her heart.  
  
When you awaken in the dream, I want to gently watch over you  
In a part of the future always be with me.  
  
Sesshoumaru watched her turn that last time, the rain and water pelting down against her thin form, the silks of her kimono plastered against her side. She stumbled once, and nearly fell again. He was tempted to run out and help her, to catch her from the fall, and yet, he paused and shuddered.   
  
This was the end.   
  
"Good bye," he found himself whispering in an unsteady and hoarse voice, his firsts clench as though to hold his body together. He was being torn apart.   
  
Kagome turned towards her destination and this time, she did not look back. Her gray eyes squinted in the dim that slowly gave way to a sickly color of dawn. The sun was slowly rising over the mountains, casting the world into strange and fantastical shadows and realms. A sob rose from her throat, and folding her hands against her mouth, she stumbled and continued on, determined to never look back.   
  
Sesshoumaru watched as Kagome, the only love he would ever know as slipped into the mists. He turned away, his head fallen in exhaustion, to hide the sentiment that nearly overflowed from his eyes. Trembling, the final voice was erased as he mourned over unforgivable sins. Fleeting dreams, sad dreams, painful dreams announce the end…into kind dreams, into lovely dreams, like that day, like that time...  
  
  
  
  
Bathed in the cold wind  
Imagining these feelings night after night  
The melody I hum softly  
Is etched in time and  
disappears  
I can't forget the sadness that will I can never go back  
Even now I can't dye myself with these swaying emotions and my body  
Is about to break...  
  
  
  
  
  
***  
**  
*  
  
  
  
AN: THIS STORY IS NOT OVER.  
Far from it. Truth be told.  
Want to know what the hell the battle plans Sesshoumaru was talking about? Or at least have a general idea for the map? Check out this link:  
http:// www .geocities. com / furinkoto_neko /map 

(I put spaces in so u could actually SEE the link…so, just take em out and paste!)  
(and also it is on the bio page)

Also, side notes:  
Tanuki is a raccoon thing and a kitsune is a fox, both known for being cunning and mischievous in Japanese (as well as western) mythology.  
  
Yeah. Soooo. Anyways….bet y'all r gunna hate me for that one, ne? ^^;; oh well. Are you guys crying? That was my goal, but I don't know if I succeeded.  
  
Also, I would like to add that…..there are some lines (including the last bit in italicization) that are taken from the lovely, talented and DAMN Sexy Gackt. Just wanted to make that clear.   
  
Read, review, say "Boo hoo!"   



	30. rain and blood

_Title: Shadows Against a Shoji Screen_

_Series: Inuyasha_

_Genre: romance/action/adventure/drama_

_Chapters__ primary characters: Naraku, Kikyou, Inuyasha, Kagome-tachi (Miroku, Kouga + etc, Sango)_

_Rating: pg13_

_Spoilers: n/a_

_Chapter: 30: Rain and Blood_

_An: It took me a long time to get this chapter out, basically because of the fact that I have to write war scenes.  Also, probably, from this point in the story, I am back to switching view points.  What I mean is, incase you haven't noticed, the past few chapters have usually been one thing or the other.  It was either Inuyasha-tachi or Sesshoumaru-tachi, it did not switch from Inuyasha, Sesshoumaru, Kagome, and back to Inuyasha—but since the advent of chapter 29 and we are back on the same old schedule.  Scene changes can be recognized by '***'.  Also, as usual, a big shout out to taskinLUDE who always takes the time with me, for reasons I have not come to comprehend myself. _

_Shinigami: I have been thinking about Gundam Wing a lot lately (God! I love that anime! It's all just so wonderful! Slash, politics, hot guys, and nice music, as well as good animation. And, oh, did I mention hot guys? Oi…am I the only one who would think Wufei and Relena would make a good couple?  Like, think about it…you have Heero x Duo, Quatra x Trowa, Zechs x Trieze…and so, what about poor Wufei? And Relena…isn't…so…bad….(*gags*) ANYWAYS, sorry bout that rant. I have been thinking about Gundam Wing, and, as you know, Duo is the pilot of Shinigami…and Shinigami is the god of death, and so, I just thought I would reference to him a bit._

_Rain/water/grey: Yep, this chapter has a __LOT__ of it, as will most of the others. Sorry if you get tired of it, I am trying to set a "mood". Just DEAL. _

_****_

**Ariel**: You asked if Sesshoumaru and Kagome are going to be together?  Well, I can neither confirm nor deny that fact.  All of you who keep asking my questions, you will just have to wait and see.  I won't say yes, but I won't say no either. ^_~ don't ya just love me?

**Devil-incarnate**: Happy or sad ending?  Both! ^_^ I mean, after reading this story so far, you know that it is very different from my past works, so you can't expect the same ending, however nice that would be!

**Peenya Kowlada**: Kagome seemed more rebellious in the past chapter—especially with Sesshoumaru.  Yes, to reply to that comment, I was sort of unsure how to make that.  But, I decided that Kagome has a naturally rebellious personality, and I think she can be a lot gentler when in private, but in public she wants to make sure she does not get walked all over.  Also, I think that I hadn't shown her rebellious nature for quite a long time and it was overdue.

**taskinLUDE**: Uhm, no, not Mulan related, but still, a great story anyways! Inamoto..Juunichi? Who? *doesn't know anything about soccer/football* Is he cute? *smirk*

_****_

_Shadows Against a Shoji Screen_

_Chapter 30_

_Blood and Rain_

_Zaa Zaa Zaa _went the rain upon the roof of the castle.  It fell down in great sheets, one after another, each drop following its brother to the earth below, to its grave.  The rivers swelled, the trees swung in the great winds, the reeds and thrushes flailed innocently among the endless sea of green; the endless sea of rice.

From his position upon a grey speckled mare, Inuyasha looked down into the valley, onto the thick shiny form of bodies beneath his feet.  They pulsated like the war cry of a great Taiko drum.  They were waiting for his answer to battle.

The sky was the color of the first light of dawn; bluish in all its glory, only magnified by the low lying cloud cover.  The water-colored depths of these forms swept and crashed through the surrounding mountains, inhaling the inky pine trees and any decipherable form.  There was only the wind and the rain.

Inuyasha's figure, although dressed for battle in shades of crimson, was drenched this continual waterfall.  His silver locks were plastered to his tan skin, and they seemed so rooted there as to never to escape.  The water held tight against him in such a fury, as did his fate.

His grip on the leather reigns tightened.  He must not delay it any longer.  His future, his country's future, all rested on the following days.  There was no time to get cold feet, no time to let the fear grip at his heart.  He would override such an emotion—even if it destroyed him.

But he paused…and looked down at the ground, searching for a sign, only to be presented with a warm shade of pumpkin orange from an opened parasol.  Beneath its glowing cover, an elegant face peered out.  Two black eyes, fair skin, and a wave of hair; it was Kikyou, come to wish him off.

"You should not be here," he began, looking down at her, examining every detail subconsciously.  Should he never return, he wanted to remember her form to the grave.  He wanted her body to wrap around him in the fading twilight…

Her eyes were dark and serious, and she spoke in a particularly deep voice, laced slightly with the sound of fear, "I had to see you, I had to tell you something before you left."

Inuyasha did not speak, but watched as her delicate hand reached out from under the protection of the parasol to hold his own clawed fingers.  Kikyou squeezed them gently, her eyes focused on the small, but intimate embrace.  As she did so, however, her lips moved, and Inuyasha heard her say in a hushed whisper, "I have something important that you must know, that you must know before you meet your brother in battle."

Interest was kindled in his eyes.  So, _once again_, he had been left in the dark as far as something was concerned.  But, he thought reasonably, he could not blame Kikyou for this.  The youkai was sure that Kikyou had her reasons to withhold such information—most likely, thought Inuyasha; it was the veiled threat of Naraku in this damnable house amongst the cottonwood trees.

"What is it?  You must tell me now before—,"

There were hurried footsteps, even through the percussion of rain, he could hear them, trampling along the wooden veranda, the one Kikyou must have traveled upon.  The lord's eye swiveled slightly and he saw a dark haired figure approaching them rapidly.  The steps were smooth and almost feminine in their sound—it could be the stride of no other.  No other could sound so delicate; no one could create such a false sense of security, especially in a hakama…

The form bent to reach for an umbrella planted firmly in a bamboo stand, and in an elegant movement, opened it, revealing a startlingly bright color on its edges; that of blood, deep fresh blood.

"Lord Inuyasha!" an unusually playful voice called.

The two amongst the plummeting rain were now looking at the approaching figure, dressed in deep plums and blacks.  Their hands, once held together so intimately, had fallen to their sides, cool and impartial.  They were now but strangers; strangers amongst the rain…but the fog that poured over the hills held a secret, a secret of the unspoken, a secret only the eyes could uncover…

The umbrella lifted, and the face of Naraku greeted the two: murky eyes, smirking lips, and a waterfall of luxurious shining hair, with almost the same quality of the men below in the valley.  His hair glinted and shone, both alive and dead at the same time.

The silver-haired youkai and his miko companion were surprised, but not truly so; each knew Naraku was swift and cunning—no doubt he had come to intercept Kikyou's oh-so-important information.  Naraku was a rapid current, swallowing anything that came in his way—he would destroy the trees, the boats, the villages, and the rice fields—even people.  Nothing could be left untouched in such a storm.

"Why do you hesitate, hm?"  Naraku questioned sternly, withdrawing a cypress pipe from the inner recesses of his happi coat.  He chewed on its worn wooden edges, although not attempting to light it.  It was, after all, not suitable weather for smoking. "Your men wait for war, even in this damnable weather! 

The dark lord's eyes were alit, and brave, and hungry—Naraku had waited for this day long enough.  The dark haired lord had planned and yearned and plotted for this day—and finally, after months—no, _years_ of waiting, it had arrived.  So slowly had it been encroaching that it hardly seemed plausible to Naraku and he could hardly control his elation.  He wanted to watch the blood flow, down from the mountains, and into the rice fields, fertilizing what would soon be his.  Naraku wanted to wrap Kikyou in his arms, he wanted to tell her that this had all been for her—he wanted her to understand more than ever, and the only way the girl would ever understand was after the two brothers, those two thorns in his sides, were successfully disposed of.

And then there was the matter of Kagome, but that was to be savored for later. 

Inuyasha could not think of an answer to this reply, but did not withdraw his pensive gaze from the dark lord, now giving him and Kikyou amused glances through the raindrops.  He could not help but notice how the droplets became caught in Naraku's eyelashes, as though they were spider webs sparking with the morning dew.

"I believe," Kikyou whispered, bowing her head with the grace of an imperial swan, "I will return to the fortress.  I have just come to wish Inuyasha-sama the best of luck in this campaign."

Naraku watched her go, her small careful steps echoing in his heart, as she made her way, once again, back to the safety of _his _domain.  He grinned lustily.  What a pity it was that he could not taste her juices tonight—no, he would have to be satisfied with a young solider from the battlefield.

Turning once more to face his ally, Naraku quipped, "I will get my horse, and then shall we be off?  The men grow restless for the word—the war has not even started, and already they undermine your strength!"

The Lord Naraku ambled away across the gravel expanse, chuckling to himself, in search of a servant who would bring him _Hayakaze_, his most treasured and beloved horse.  As he made his procession to the main house, he looked over his shoulder once to find that Inuyasha was watching him with a serious glint in his eyes.  Oh, it was such a pity; he thought regretfully, that he would never be able to hold that pearl that he had so dreamed about for many, many moons.

Yes, all through those nights he had heard Inuyasha and Kikyou through the thin walls, he found himself aroused—the thought of Kikyou, let alone Inuyasha…ah, such sweet torture…

At night the late-flowering zinnias were blooming, and between her thighs, would a narcissus grow? 

_Such a pity…_he sighed distressfully, his eyes glazing over as they traveled up the expanse of Inuyasha's abdomen, _Oh, indeed such a pity…_

Inuyasha watched his ally go, anger falling in his golden eyes, sparking the ground, like the rain that plunged before him; the rain that threatened to wash everything away.  

_Do not think I cannot see what lingers in your eyes, Naraku, _Inuyasha sighed, burying his head in his hands, almost in a defeated pose.  Yet, the war had not even started.  _I see what you think I cannot—I know what lurks in your heart, and if I do not, I will soon find out…_

Nudging his horse _Umeboshi _forward_, _he headed down the slippery mount, gleaming and bright in this mild light of dawn.  Perhaps the horse, for whatever reason, could sense his fear.  

It was a long journey down that hill…

****

One after another, one after another, one after another.  One step.  One more step.  One more step…just one more, and you will fly down the hill, you will fly down into the valleys, fly into the grasslands, the marshes, the keeps—you will be there, amongst the world, amid the beauty.

Will you see it, a flash of red, among the tortured screams?  Will you hear the gentle pattern of the rain?  Will you close your eyes and marvel at the world?

Not now.  Not now, for you are a warrior—only in peace is the world beautiful.  In times of war, there is only the blood, the rain, the sweat, the tears, the grief, the joy, the sorrow. There is no peace in war.

Inuyasha rode on through the fog, covering him like a blanket, as though he was the gentle hill that surrounded him on either side through this path.  The narrow mountain passes seemed treacherous, but Inuyasha did not notice.  He noticed nothing, his golden eyes only focused terrain straight ahead.

Subconsciously, he wished for his brother to appear, to face his twin, his opposite, his rival and friend—he wanted to slash him in two, he wanted to make him suffer…then this war would be over.

Wouldn't it?

Snorting, Inuyasha shook his head at his own foolishness.  He really was young and inexperienced.  He was afraid, wasn't he?  Yes, he supposed he was.  Not matter how many battles he partook in, no matter how many things he killed—whether it was animals, youkai, hanyou or men…he still regretted seeing that flash of red against his sword.

His grip about the neck of the horse tightened, and he felt the steps from the creature begin to quicken.  The pass was not safe.  The enemy could be above, their snake eyes looking down on them, waiting, and ready to strike.  The arrows would fly through the air and there would be no chance.  What a massacre it would be.  They would tell of it for years to come.

_"Yes, and did you hear about Inuyasha's massacre? Not five miles away from where they started and they were all killed!"_

_"No, that can't be true."_

_"I swear on the Sea-God, it was the shortest war ever fought."_

The rain was continuing to fall hard, and although the physical ailments did bother him—the cold, the hunger, the fear, the pain—it was his thoughts that had managed, somehow, against all hope, to transcend time and space.  It was as though that the fear that had bound him not only a few seconds ago had flown above these clouds—a crow with no mouth. 

A crow would seem fitting, he supposed ruefully, guiding Umeboshi about a corner, a crow, the bird of death and bad omens.  But it meant nothing, he insisted.  Whether or not he died in this war was of no importance—he was fully satisfied, there was nothing he felt missing.  Of course, he would die with regrets, as had everyone before them.  It was impossible not to have regrets—such was the way of the world.  Could a crow sing a song as beautiful as a mockingbird?  No, for such a thing was impossible.  One could not ask for the unattainable, that was blasphemy in and of itself.

Yes, people laughed because they were alive—but did they see the bones they walked upon?  

They were now parallel with the small Ishin Creek that would eventually flow into the Tenryu River.  Swallowing hard, Inuyasha slowed Umeboshi's pace to a canter and waited for General Musou to approach him.

"Soon I am to leave you."

The general nodded and bowed slightly, although the action somewhat inhibited by the fact that he was riding atop a great horse. 

"Yes, my lord, I am aware of the plans." Musou assured, reaching for the map tucked in his leather belt.

Shaking his head, Inuyasha nodded and replied, "I trust your judgment.  Remember, if we cannot win the battle, there is nothing dishonorable in retreating—in the end, it might be retreating that wins us our victory."  

Looking at Musou, Inuyasha suddenly wished that Miroku were here by his side.  The two had practically grown up as children—every battle, every war the two had encountered, there was the perverted lecher.  It was unwelcoming; it was going to be lonesome, crossing this wild and untamed territory without his friend.

Had Miroku been there, Inuyasha felt certain that this war would have turned favorable. 

Musou could not understand, or perhaps he was not allowed to.  The only thing the general saw was what he was supposed to see—the best way possible to win.  Inuyasha, although commander of this army and the decider of battle tactics in general could not do what this general could; he was not as skilled as that.  When those men returned, creaking back to their families on canes, permanently injured beyond repair—what could he, Inuyasha, do?  There could be no apology that he could give; no sum of money could compensate the hurt.  

_I am not that strong, _Inuyasha admitted bitterly, motioning the general to continue the troops moving.  _I will never be as strong as Sesshoumaru…_

But now was not the time for self-indulging oneself as far as feelings were concerned.  Now was not the time to sort out the relationship between him and his half-brother; now was not the time to think about anything except for winning.  Competition and stress was where he did his best work, and, Inuyasha knew he would not give up until he drowned in his own blood.  It would be painful, it would be tiring…this he knew…but he could not give up.  Although the risks may not have been as high anymore, he still needed to prove, once and for all to his brother, that even though he was not as powerful, he was a formidable enemy… 

The generals knew their plan; they knew the route that needed to be taken.   Inuyasha himself and a quarter of his men were to travel across the Edomaki Valley until they reached the infamous Den Road that crossed over the Koten River.  They would follow this road for sometime, through the rice fields, their main purpose in avoiding combat and successfully positioning themselves at the convergences of the Yoshinaka Pass and the Yuukie Pass.  

The Yoshinaka and Yuukie pass were critical, but then again, Inuyasha admitted, all passes into his domain were key pieces to the war.  There was no secure spot in this entire conflict—there was nowhere that was considered useless.

And maybe this made the stakes higher, the way they were meant to be.

General Hojo, positioned in Inuyasha's own fertile lands, was to cut across the valley until he reached the Tsuyoshi road, the main thoroughfare in and out of the Okuba Valley.  Although other trails managed to infiltrate the Okuba valley, it was the Tsuyoshi Road that remained the keystone in this war.  If the Tsuyoshi road was taken, so was Inuyasha's land.  Three-quarters of the troops were to be taken on this venture to the Tsuyoshi road, a thousand or so men, however, were quartered to the Yamachi-Kofuchi triangle.  It was a center position, and although this meant having the ability to be attacked on all sides, the Koten, Kyu, Koyou and Yoi River protected them with their rapidly moving waters.

The rain, it seemed, was not so bad…

Continuing along with the pace of General Musou, Inuyasha allowed the horse to lead him as he fell into thought once more.  This war had come up so suddenly, although he had known of its existence since the previous summer—but the fact remained that he was not prepared.  Had he actually expected everything to happen and be planned out without his involvement?  And even if so, had he automatically labeled such responsibilities as Naraku's?  He found that no work had been done at all; everything had been put together so haphazardly that it was impossible to tell their proper places.  His course of action was as clear as mud, and for no one's fault but his own.

Truth be told, he would have been content with Kikyou amid the magnolia tree for the rest of his days…but such was not his fortune.  His wind blew from his homeland, the east, and the place where things began…

As far as Inuyasha knew, Naraku had his own plans, ones that Inuyasha had not quite inquired on.  Naraku was so dark and empty that he could not hide in his own sleeves.  He did not trust Naraku, nor did he wish to know what the bastard held within his plum-colored sheathings.  No, the only thing the youkai lord knew was that '_Sesshoumaru was in for a surprise', _as the dark lord had so eloquently put it.  The edges to all swords, all swords owned by every man (but particularly Naraku) were life and death and it was incomprehensible to decipher which side was which. 

What was life?

What was death?

Would a friend's funeral burn within him like his own?

The rain continued to fall with an increasing viciousness that Inuyasha had never witnessed or felt before.  Already, the rice crops showed signs of flooding, and the farmers that were not participating in the war were desperately trying to drain the paddies, although to no avail.  Some were urgently trying to harvest the kernels from the stalk.

Water was everywhere, just as the war was.

Urging his horse Umeboshiforward through the great puddles, dripping forests, and flooded rice lands, he called out to his men, a great trail of horses behind him.  It was a sea of movement, the flash of red from the uniforms, brown from the horse's flanks, grey from the great beasts' breasts, and the sound of hooves like the lull of the sea.  Traditionally, these men would have marched, and although many were directed as foot-solders, due to the lack of time and open country, the horses proved more efficient to the call of war.

_We have to make it to the Yoshinaka pass, if nothing else!  _Inuyasha swore to himself, wiping the rivers of rain from his eyes, it having temporarily blinded his vision.

_Hojo can survive, I am sure…but we must get there!  If we loose the Tsuyoshi Road then we don't stand a chance…_

The rain continued to pour, but there was alertness in Inuyasha's eyes.  Looking out at every corner, every turn, every bend, through every shadow, tree, hill, and mound—was the enemy here?  There?  Had they reached the bridge yet?  Would battle face the men so early on in the war?  Would they reach their strategic position and hold all that threatened to wash away?

He was unsure.  Nothing was sure.

Looking up at the clouds, he noticed they were low; it took no words to pull them there.  _How ironic._

The horse's hooves beat faster against the puddle-pocked surface of the Den Road, and with each step, Inuyasha's heart beat as one, tightening a fraction each and every second until it was almost painful to breathe…

****

_Drip_

_Drop_

_Drip_

_Drip_

One after another they fell into the water, becoming one, morphing and merging until their existence as separate entities were but all forgotten to the world.  Like the cherry blossoms of spring, no one flower was remembered—it was the collection as a whole that would be discussed through poetry for centuries to come.

Alone, it seemed, one would easily be forgotten.

Kikyou watched the rain as it dripped off from the roof and into a puddle at the base of the veranda.  Closing her eyes, she allowed her body weight to fall against the exterior pillar, painted a deep burgundy, and drifted off into her own thoughts, mingled and mixed, falling about her like the precipitation.

She had not been able to tell Inuyasha of Kagome's residence with his brother, let alone the fact that it had been Naraku who had kidnapped his wife.  No doubt, Naraku had been aware of her efforts in communicating such information to Inuyasha, and that had been the reason for his sudden appearance earlier on in the morn.

At least, that was what she presumed…

The lord was wise, this she knew, and he would keep any information away from Inuyasha that did not prove lucrative to himself.  Kikyou had a feeling that these matters would appear again, quite soon, perhaps even more rapidly than she realized.  Yes, Naraku had plans for this unspoken bit of information.  Naraku knew of its use—he knew he could wield Inuyasha like a sword, and take control, play Inuyasha as a marionette, just like a famous puppeteer.  If this was the case, Naraku would be the most renowned of all. 

She could just imagine it, the two brothers having finally met each other in battle, and Naraku, in his magical ways, appearing before the two, whispering into Inuyasha's ear this very information.  The hanyou would grow crazy as his eyes turned blood red and full of hatred; there would be no control.  The boy would lash out.

Even if Inuyasha did not love his wife, men were strongly attached to property in any way, shape, or form.  Kagome was his, even if he did not desire her.  The blue-eyed girl was his to shelter, even if he would have rather thrown her aside into the wilds.  It would be Inuyasha's will, not that of Naraku.

This she knew.

Her eyes opened, and a cold sweat had appeared on her brow, despite the cool temperature outside.  Her body was shaking, and looking down at herself, she found her body glowing ever so lightly.  _I may be a walking corpse, _Kikyou thought to herself, _But__ I still hold my miko power._

She knew these signs.  It was that of foresight.  In her mind, in her vision, she had seen the future.  The two men, facing each other, each hurt and confused and angry.  She could see Sesshoumaru moving his mouth, trying to explain—but in her vision, she could hear no words.  Or, perhaps there were none to begin with.

Naraku appeared then, smoothly, gracefully, nodding in composure to Sesshoumaru, as though the two knew each other much better than they should have.

_Naraku must have made an alliance with Sesshoumaru as well…_

There was no other explanation for his kidnapping of Kagome.  The bastard wished the brothers to kill each other in one fell swoop, in that way Naraku would be ruler of the land in every degree.  Such was the sick and perverse nature of Naraku, one Kikyou knew all too well.

_-Try to understand, Inuyasha, it wasn't meant to happen! Don't you see, you fool, Naraku has betrayed us both?  We are but pawns!-_

She shuddered.  There was more, and she knew it, but her power was fading.  In truth, she was borrowing it from her other self, from Kagome, somewhere in time and space where even she could not see.  She was borrowing her powers, and she silently apologized and murmured a prayer.

Her intentions had been good, she swore.

Turning towards the interior of her private chambers, she looked at a stack of silk kimonos resting complacently against the bureau drawer.  Kimonos, a thing of this world she would never see again.

Ringing the bell for a servant, the miko waited in silence, and listened to the rain—the outside world as it fluttered past, a beautiful butterfly, being torn by the winds of misfortune.

She would ride these winds, she told herself, like the great gods.  Her mission, she thought bitterly, realizing there were tears in her eyes, may be one of finality—but there was no place for her in this world any more.  She was a character only introduced to move the plot along, and then, at the most convenient moment she would be killed.

There was no avoiding death, she realized unhappily, not wanting to have to face the darkness again without Inuyasha.  No, her time in this world was soon running out.  She could feel her body automatically using Kagome's powers to replace her own.  The spell Urasue had preformed could become permanent, as long as Kagome died.  Once the young, new, wide-eyed miko was killed, then Kikyou would return to life, full and complete.  She would take the blue-eyed girl's place in the world, but would her presence be over-shadowed by the grief that would follow?

She bit her lip and swore silently.  There was no winning in a situation such as this…

But there was no going back, the images, the visions would not fade from her mind, and she knew where her destiny lay.  She would no longer be constricted to the shoji screens of this dwelling.  Nay, she would venture out beyond this cage, and out into the battlefield, where one as innocent as her was destined.  A miko with her past, and her future, belonged in no other place but amongst the rivers of blood.  Perhaps then she could be stained like she so rightly deserved...she was not so presumptuous to assume herself innocent…no…that was her new self, Kagome, somewhere amongst the wilds. 

Closing her eyes, she whispered softly to the servant who had just entered the room behind her.  The rustle of fabric was so relaxing, and she imagined that it was Inuyasha—that he had returned, cast aside Naraku's agenda, and arrived to her once more…Glancing over her shoulder, her deep eyes momentarily alit like the fireflies of summer, but they died instantly.  It was not he, nor would it ever be.  Kikyou turned once again to the rain, the real world, not one filled with hopes and desires and her silly fantasies.  He was not coming back…

"Bring me clothes fit for traveling."

She could hear the rustle of fabric behind her as the servant bowed, the swish of the shoji screen along its runner, and once again, it was she and the rain…

****

The figures emerged, all but actors in a play, making their way across the stage.  Each step was one after another, planned, as though by a divine notion.  Were the gods of the mountains studying their every move?  What was their wish?  Destruction?  Salvation?  Were they to be washed away by the rain?  Would the trees throw them off their homeland and back into the flooded refuge of the valley, the valley where the sounds of battle now raged below?  The loss of life was undistinguishable at this towering height above the earth—the daily happenings seemed trivial so far above, and the group that made their way, had only their lives to worry over.  There was no pity in their heart for the young men and boys who lost their lives beneath them.

The group did not care as the boy, not but thirteen as he struggled to keep his sword aloft.  They did not see him begging for mercy before his head was cleanly and efficiently lopped off.  They did not see the tears, still hanging on his eyelids, never to fall to the earth.  They heard and saw nothing, nothing but their own journey: the goal that seemed as unattainable as the stars.

Oh, Kagome thought dearly, nearly loosing her footing on a particularly spotty climb, why was it that war had to happen?  What was land, after all?  Was it the greed of humans that were the destruction of the world?  Was it misunderstandings, lack of communication and empathy—what was the purpose?  What was _so _important that it tore people from their homes, from their families, only to die in the most horrific of ways?

What man, what person, could take sport in such an action, when lives, as gentle and precious as the cherry blossoms of spring, were being torn from their branches?  Yes, they would bloom again the next spring, and would they be frayed off once again?  Was there…any end to this cycle?  Was her life to be forever determined by wars, and death; exchanges and barters, valuable and worthless?  

She did not know, and she feared the answer, and concentrated on only the necessities. She did not want to think.  She did not want to wonder about war, the victor, and the loser; Inuyasha or Sesshoumaru.  She did not want to remember how he had held her not but three hours ago…she did not want to remember his lips against hers.  It would have been better had they never said goodbye…for now, that action, that single embrace, would haunt her for the rest of her days.  This she knew above all others.

_I wonder if he has ridden off to war yet…_

There was no doubt that he had already left the fortress, she thought, her eyes moving back and forth amongst the forest floor, spotting a bramble, as though reading a book.

_Of course he had ridden off to war.  He was pressed for time, even while I was there.  No, he has gone._

And she would never see him again; at least that was what her heart told her. 

Trying to hold the tears within her body, she quickened her speed up the mount, one foot after another, until finally, after some time her thoughts had turned dark and stormy and back to the present.  She would only concentrate on the weather, the road, the cold, the danger, and the fear—there was and there would be nothing else to her now.

She was Kagome Higurashi, wife of Lord Inuyasha, returning to his lands.  That was it. 

The road had become washed out, that is if it had ever existed in the first place.  Kagome was beginning to doubt that there was even a faint trail through the treacherous mountains; she was lost like her emotions.  Clinging onto a low hanging pine branch moving beneath her due to the strong gusts of wind, she called out loudly, "Miroku, where are we going?"

The monk, a few feet up the trail, and holding to a tree bough for support, called out quite vociferously, though his voice was swept up by the wind, "We will skirt along the mountains for some time and will take the Sagano Pass to the Seikoku Road.  From there, we will journey to Sango's homeland."

Nodding slightly, and wiping the liquid away from her face as best she could, she continued to make her way arduously.  Although having changed clothes more fit for traveling, they had already become soaked through by the continual downpour.  There was no escape from the liquid, even amongst such lushly forested mountains.

But there was no escape from anything.  Running was fruitless.  Could she really avoid Inuyasha?  Would this expedition out-maneuver Naraku and all his minions?  She thought not. 

Her gaze remained only a few feet ahead, footing her way about the small streams that had sprung up, the sharp rocks that could be painful should she lose her balance, and gleaming soil that proved to be unstable and often times created minor mudslides.

Kagome closed her eyes and tried to focus her breathing that had become rough and ragged.  The trail was nearly vertical and every few steps or so she would have to grab out at a branch as support to help her up the hill.

Miroku and Sango were in the lead, and behind her was the wolf youkai known as _Kouga.  _She distantly remembered having heard of his name before.  Supposedly his clan was centrally located in the south on the farthest post of the Akaino Mountains.

_That would mean they are in close proximity to Inuyasha.  _

After all, his fortress of Genma only lay on the other side of these mountains in the Okuba Valley…

But she did not wish to think of Inuyasha.  Bitterness hung on her heart, that of regret and loss, and even the torrents of rain would not wash away the pain.

She stopped, and found another tree on which to lean against.  Kagome had not realized that she was so physically weak—or perhaps it was the circumstances.  The cold cut at her bones and it sliced through her clothing even as she ran her hands up and down her arms in an effort to stay warm.  Her teeth were chattering, and she felt sick for a variety of reasons.

Bowing her head, she listened to the rainfall about her, on top of her, and through her.  It was a chorus of singers, so beautiful and calming that it even managed to smooth over her uneven nerves.  The rain lulled her into a quiet softness, one she wished never to escape from—such as Sesshoumaru's arms…

Warmth surrounded her suddenly, and glancing up she felt movement against her shoulder.  A slight wash of color came to her cheeks and she looked up into the face of this man that she did not know.  It was Kouga.  Kouga, the person she had never met, Kouga, rough around the edges, Kouga who smiled down at her, his small fangs showing.  How he managed to smile, Kagome could not guess.  But, if he could smile, so could she.

He gave her strength, just by looking at her. 

"Here," he whispered, the rain falling down his face, his deep, dark, damp bangs having dropped before his eyes.  He pulled them away feverishly, and continued to wrap the animal fur about her shoulders.  "You should be warmer now.  The skin is water-proof."

Looking up at him, Kagome nodded and smiled, "Thank you."

_Where has my old self gone?  Where is the Kagome who smiled all the time?  Where is the carefree girl who was not afraid to speak up?  Has that part of me died?  Escaped? Disappeared?_

_Am I still the same girl I once was…?_

Kouga nodded and looked away before mumbling, "Get going now, we have a lot of space to cover before dark."

Unsure of how she should reply, Kagome turned once again and faced the mountain, one foot in front of the other.  She did not see Kouga's appraising glance, nor the kindling of interest in his eyes.  However, even if she had, her thoughts were so withdrawn so as not to notice.  She was lost in her thoughts, and she had no intention of finding the way home.

At last, the procession had reached the top of the mountain, although there was hardly a view; only grey dreary clouds, water and pine trees.  There was no vast blue yonder, or rice covered valleys.  There was the rain and fog—and it was beautiful, beautiful in its destruction and death that followed it like a mosquito did a person on warm summer nights.  Leaning against a fir tree as the other members of the group had done, she listened half heartedly as Miroku continued to explain to the group their intended plans.  

It was not as though she did not want to listen to her old friend and all his plans—but she was the outsider, she was the _thing _they were supposed to protect, supposed to ensure the safe arrival of.  She could voice no opinion…for after all; she knew not what was to be done with her.

_At least I am warmer now…_Kagome glanced back at Kouga and found that he was staring at her, although he directly turned away in a concentrated effort.  She could not help but smile.  He reminded her of Inuyasha in a way.  But that was all so long ago.  She was different, in those times.  She had not changed yet.

"We will follow the mountain range along this until we reach the pass.  But at the pass…we will part."

The monk's eyes flashed to Sango who casually leaned against a particularly fine tree, and he nodded, although slightly.  Something had happened, something that was not quite visible to the trained eye, and Kagome had not even caught this subtle move between the two of them.

Kagome, fully alert now, gasped, "What?  You are leaving us?"  This truly did come as a shock.  She had expected them to see her to…_wherever _she was traveling to.  What was the purpose to splitting up this group?

The monk nodded, tucking stray pieces of hair behind his ears, although they immediately fell out again, "Yes, and Sango as well."  His words were not forced, but planned, as though he had long thought of how exactly he was going to communicate this particularly…_delicate_…piece of information.

Kagome was speechless, and looked at the two in disbelief.  Her blue eyes were wide, but she could say nothing.  It was not her place.  Her decision mattered not.  Perhaps at one point, surrounded by the pine trees of Sesshoumaru's fortress, her opinion might have had some weight.  Yet, at this point in time she was just a noble girl; she was not trained in battle, let alone mountain travel.

For perhaps the first time in her life, she felt truly weak. 

Yet she was not the only one who was startled.  A great roar of indignation came from the wolf-clan, but most profound was that of the leader, Kouga.  In a great hurried movement, the youkai moved forward, his blue eyes alit and shining almost cobalt.  They were filled with anger and indignation.  

"What do you mean you're leaving us!?"  Kouga was furious, bitter and impatient.  

_So much like Inuyasha…_Kagome sighed self-consciously.  It was as though, now that she had left Sesshoumaru's fortress, the realization that she was indeed_ married _came to strike her with double the intensity as it had before.

"Yes, I made that perfectly clear."  Miroku murmured soothingly, although there was an edge and seriousness to his voice that was rarely bestowed.  Miroku, the lecherous advisor and traveling monk—always grinning and smirking, his eyes always jovial: there was no such characteristic now.  He meant what he spoke. 

"What the hell!?  Why!?"  Kouga shot forward, making his way angrily towards the monk through the puddles and grabbing him about the soaked collar and yelling furiously into his face, "This mission ain't just about you, y'know?  And how come I get stuck taking little-miss-prissy home?!"

Blue eyes widened in anger.  

_And to think I was beginning to like him! _

Yet it was true, she realized almost as quickly.  She _was _a burden to this group.  She _was_ aweakling. Kagome was but a girl thrown into a situation against her will.  Could she be expected to keep up with the group?  Could she…?  It was nearly impossible.  She was 'prissy'; but through no fault of her own.  It was what her social class had required her to be; never self sufficient, gentle, soft, beautiful—but strong?  No…that was unheard of!

Miroku glanced at Kagome, who fingered the animal skin about her shoulders nervously, casting her eyes downward onto the hill they had just climbed.  Perhaps, Miroku thought sadly, she wished to return to Sesshoumaru's domain so quickly.  He could not blame her.  The poor girl must have fallen in love, and to return to her husband who didn't really care?

Good lord, it was torture just thinking about it.

And Kouga, with his simple country manners, had gone about being as blatant and blunt as he obviously could.  Had the youkai not an ounce of wit in his head?  Did he not see how she suffered?  Did he not notice her concentrated effort to ensure that she did not delay them? 

"You insult her, and us." Miroku spat, hitting the leader upside the head with his brass staff with a free hand.  The metal rings about the top echoed through the rainy hilltop. 

Kouga relinquished his grip on the advisor, and rubbed his head in pain. "Y-You!" he sputtered angrily, his cheeks red and hot, even in the cold wind.  Kouga's eyes fell back to Kagome's figure, but their vision did not meet. 

_Yes, now you see the pain you have caused, _Miroku grumbled noiselessly.

But more explanation remained.  He had to tell the group all he could. He had to make them understand what motives coursed through his blood.  It would be unforgivable to leave them in the dark, especially concerning the matter with Sango.

"I only go, because my duty and honor lies in the pledge I gave to my Lord Inuyasha.  It is my duty to ride with him into war.  I cannot cast such shame upon my name, especially…" He glanced at Sango for a moment who had been watching him, her dark eyes silently smiling.  She immediately turned away, a blush on her pretty cheeks, "Especially since when my child, bore by Sango, comes into the world—I do not want it to be born into a dishonorable house."

Kouga sputtered for an answer, Kagome was unsure whether to be disgusted or delighted, but satisfied herself with a gasp of surprise and clasping her hand upon her mouth.  Her blue eyes fluttered down and saw a small firm mound appearing on her.  She could not but help to smile.  They were a good match, Miroku and Sango—both sensible, yet in their own ways.  They complimented each other perfectly; Miroku and his lackadaisical nature and Sango with her serious disposition.  Although their life was to be full of fights, Kagome reasoned that it would be a joyful existence, filled with many an unforgettable experience together.

It was for that reason, no doubt, that Sango wished to accompany Miroku to battle.  To begin a life together, to only be separated through battle and death—oh, such was a pitiful idea, sorrowful and heartbreaking.

Sango, speaking for the first time, admitted embarrassingly, "We were married in the second to last town…in, private."  

Kagome had never seen Sango look so happy, so elated; even between the cold and wet conditions that the world seemed compelled to offer.  Sango glowed, like the light from the sun, touching everything and turning it warm and rosy.  Stepping forward, and into a particularly large puddle, Kagome felt for Sango's outstretched hand and squeezed it.  This was proof, proof that happiness could be found amid the battle scars, amid the blood and tortured cries.

Continuing on, Miroku explained, grinning against his will, "You will be enacting your revenge by escaping with Kagome.  Naraku, no doubt, wants her to work into the picture _somehow_. By making her presence hard to locate, you will be thwarting his plans.  Whether or not this is revenge enough for you remains to be seen.  But, this is your duty now.  You have already made a verbal agreement and—,"

"Oh, quit your yapping!"  Kouga spat, interrupting and crossing his arms upon one another and shifting the weight in his legs.  His deep eyes were calm and content, and strangely enough his cheeks were tinted pink, "Let's get going!  The sooner I get to Sango's place, the better!  It will take me days to dry off!"

He stalked off; one leg in front of the other, with a grace those years upon the mountains had allowed him.  His dark hair, wet and wild, wiped behind him, a deep scowl on his pouted lips, but a deep elation in his eyes.  He looked over his shoulder once, towards Kagome's figure, which still stood, solitary, beneath the great tree. 

The group was quiet, and silently they set off on their journey once again, through the pine and camphor trees.  Through the uncivilized world, through the world untouched by man—a world beautiful and innocent.  And would these words, so harshly spoken beneath the towering boughs, poison the earth?  Would this mountainside no longer hold the pure and clean waters that it was once so famed for? 

The journey, once so brutal, was less taxing now that they had reached the top of the mountains and only had to follow the rises and falls of one slope after another.  Did the animals, which lived upon this mountaintop, walk along this same path?  Kagome, swift and nimble like the large-eyed deer that had managed to find her place in the ranks again, looked back at Kouga, a deep frown on her face.  

Her fingers still clutched the tassels on the fur—uncertain of her actions, uncertain if she had the bravery to confront a being such as Kouga, the leader of the wolf clan.  Yet, Kagome reasoned, she was free—free from Inuyasha, free from the world, and she would not continue to be this meek and scared creature any longer.  "Kouga," she called through the falling drops, her hands slowly untying the strings.  In a perfectly civil voice, she unfastened the fur from about her shoulders and threw it bitterly at him, the object falling atop a collapsed camphor log with moss growing on its old and withered frame. "I don't need your help," she informed him bitterly, before turning to follow Sango and Miroku through the rain.  Her steps were hurried and light, and pride burned on her cheeks—she found herself smiling…a beam she never thought she could smile again.

Her elegant fingers wrapped about the gold pendant that now bounced with the rhythm of her steps.

_I have not forgotten you, _Kagome thought, her head looking down towards the valley she had just left, and towards the north, where she knew, hidden between the great mountains and pine trees lay Sesshoumaru's fortress, a place more dear to her now than her own ancestral home.

Kouga, bending over to pick up his tossed fur, held it tightly for a moment.  What she had said was the last thing he had expected her to say.  Not her, in reality, but any girl.  She was different, more singular than he first believed.  Turning to watch her retreating figure, he grinned to himself, suddenly knowing what he had been searching for during all his years of travel. 

"That girl…,"

****

Leaves fell from the trees, one after another.  It was not the wind and rain which caused such actions, no, they were falling, turning golden and red in some places—but it was not the rain which sent them on a journey to their graves.  It was nature, a cycle repeating itself, each day growing closer and closer to the goal, and then, after that was reached, the next one.  The scent of death and destruction, fermentation and ripeness was hinted on the wing. 

The autumn had come, Kikyou realized, with a fury.  There was no promise of warmth on the wing of the rain, there was no break in the clouds that revealed a warm lush sky—there was only the cool, water-colored heaven above.  There was no warmth anywhere.  She could feel about her the slow sleep the world was entering—preparing itself for the otherworldly whiteness of what was to come.  She could feel the trees whisper their farewells as the leaves that had once been so green, so promising and full of life, now fell to the earth, dead and brittle, a mere shadow of what they had once been. 

Ah, so fitting it was.

Yet, she could not allow her thoughts to stray to death, which was inevitable as the sunset.  She could not allow herself to become weak, and her heart to panic under the fear of that infinite darkness once again.  She would die, she told herself, but this time—not in vain.  There were greater purposes for her in this world—like the fallen tree, her heart would be a home to all, and any who wished to find comfort within her.

The horse beneath her shifted its weight to its front legs.  They had reached their first hill, slippery and treacherous, one of many that would take them down into the depths of the valley below.  The creature's breath came rapidly, and Kikyou felt the pain of guilt in her heart—that she should be so comfortable atop the working animal.  She, like so many before and after her where exploiting the things of nature…the goodness that she and her kind would turn to evil…

It was not intentional, she sighed in a self-sacrificing manner.

But it was of no matter.  She could feel no pity.  It was war, a time when if one carried such emotions it only quickened their death.  To pity was to fear, and to fear was to die.  Kikyou was not afraid, and nor would she ever be.  She was but a woman, yet even tied by these bonds, she had to prove herself in a world dominated by men, in a world where women lived their lives within the shoji screens.  The doors had been flung open, and the sunlight, all so foreign to her skin, was slowly turning her brown—she was slowly becoming used to the ways of this man's world.  Could she ever return to the dark, satisfied?  She was a sword that would cut through this rain, through this storm, a merciless angel, to the side of her beloved, even if that meant living a life so looked-down upon. 

She had to protect him.  The boy did not know of what danger lurked in the heart of that man; it was black and rotten, an apple that would affect many.  Inuyasha was innocent and naïve; the first untouched snow of winter.  She had been partially destroyed by that man's touch, but she had managed some how, to cut herself away from his destruction, and remained intact, however marred.  Would Inuyasha and all his unquestioned ideals survive the brutal slashing that Naraku approached everything with?

Kikyou closed her eyes and listened to the rain.  She could hear the sounds of war on either side, the echoes of voices, the clash of armor and swords, the sparks as the metal impacted.  A few troops had managed to find each other through the rain, probably not expecting the other to peek out through the forest.  But they were here now, and their voices echoed through the mountainous canyons.  They were sounds of death that surrounded her.

A sword lay tied to the side of her crimson hakama, and her eyes flashed in the rain.  Ahead was movement.  It was blue.  It was Sesshoumaru's men.  To her it was neither enemy nor kinsman—it was an obstacle, something that would stop her on her journey.  An arrow she was, she would fly through the countryside as she sliced through the world, and watch as it bled mournfully behind her.  These men, atop the hills, had already sealed their fate.  Like the readers of fortune on the side of the roads, she saw and could foretell all.  Blood drained before her eyes.

_Kill me…_the world screamed, each tortured sob, one after another and after another until the world dripped and was soaked in their pleas.

The sword glinted now, unsheathed, in the rain.  There could be no sparing them.  The men would likely attack, this she knew.  After all, she bore the color of their enemy: Inuyasha.  For the men, the men dressed in the color of the heavens, she whispered the plea, as did the rest of the world.

_Kill me;_ they seemed to hear through the fog and rain.  To them, their eyes clouded with fear and anxiety, there would be no questioning.  Whether she was the enemy or not, she could not pass.  She could _not_ pass.  The one atop the horse would die, if not by their sword, than by another—but her future had already been predetermined.  Their feet held tight into the mud, their toes curling about the earth, clinging for support and stamina as they slowly withdrew their swords from their scabbards, slowly, in a soft humming sound that rang in their ears.

The horse continued to gallop forward, each hoof following the next, through the rain, through the mud.  With each step that this creature took the closer she became a murderer.  She would soon be painted in black, like Naraku, the man who had brought her from the death.  It was a full circle.  Now, enclosed, in a torturous ring, she closed her eyes and unsheathed the polished sword.  It had been her grandfather's—but that was many years ago, ancient to her now in this day and age.

She could hear their calls.

"It is one of them!" they cried, their straw hats above their heads giving them looks of a toy or a cheaply copied scroll they used to sell in the streets of Kyoto.  Soldiers were all alike under the helmets and hats.  If she could not see their eyes, if she could not make the connection—then to her, they were just walking objects, with no heart, with no soul, with no fears and emotions.

Kikyou closed her eyes once again.  Yes, at this moment, at the crest of the hill, she too would partake in the actions that would make this valley overflow with crimson.  These were her first killed.  How many more would suffer under her sword, meant only for good intentions?  These men would never know the difference.  To them, she would be death, _Shinigami_…with a sword of doom and pain.

They were not but ten feet away.  She gradually allowed the blade to swing low.  The men were on her right side.  There were only two, but through the trees she could see the glimmer of the hats, hidden through the branches.  Perhaps _those _within the shelter of the forest could predict the future as she could—perhaps they knew that if the ventured out onto the road it would only bring death.  

Had they not seen the blade?  For there was no sound of metal.  In fact, it has been a clean cut through the bodies.  Soft and juicy, in three moves she had slashed through them both, clean through the center; the horse and its momentum had helped the process.

Had they realized they were dead yet?  Perhaps a couple more beats from the heart, a blink of the eye, a breath, and then…they would fall like flies.

She did not look back.  Kikyou was well acquainted with the techniques of battle.  After all, she was born and raised in a feudal age.  Yes, the men would continue to stand for a moment, and then their legs would collapse beneath them, followed quickly by the body.  The two halves would not land together, but a few inches apart, blood flowing late into the night from their pulsating and twitching halves.  By evening, this hill would be swarming with rats over the lifeless bodies.

Bringing the sword forward, in her free hand, she withdrew a white handkerchief and wiped off the fresh and gleaming blood.  In an instant, it was gone, like their lives.  But the memory remained, stained forever on this once unsoiled piece of cloth.  Never would the stain be truly removed from the fabric—and perhaps, it was just…the only physical evidence of their existence.

A whisper of a prayer hung on the wing, following her.  She sang it until she reached the first bridge, now deserted; it had not yet been fallen upon by the second wave of troops.

She sped on.  There was so much she had not said.  There were to be no regrets as she rode to her death.

_None at all, _she swore. 

****

It was cold, and wet and rainy.  It had been this way for days.  Or, at least so it seemed.

How quickly would this war would have ended if the rain clouds had not flooded the roads and rice-fields.  The rain fell with the same fury that the blood would by tomorrow.  The first days were always the most dangerous.  It allowed the soldiers to fall into a false sense of security.  Come tomorrow, their smirks and grins would be wiped off their dripping faces, and they would truly realize the hardships of war.  They would truly see the pain in their enemy's eyes, they would feel the blade against their stomachs, or necks, or arms—and in that second, the men of the battle would realize that there was no turning back.  It was honorable to die for one's lord, but no one ever said it would be swift and painless.

No, it took some days; drowning in their own blood, or in the heavy rainfall that blinded their vision and consumed their lungs: the cold, wet rain, so reminiscent of November, while darkness closed about them blinding them slowly.

A lone figure amongst the green and blue and grey stirred, moved, and separated itself from the road, now under two inches of water.  The figure, bathed in a rich, deep red, his happi coat flaring about him in the bitter wind, narrowed his golden eyes, as deep and murky as the weather, almost brown in this light, and sighed deeply.  

"Will this damn rain ever stop!?"  Inuyasha grumbled to himself as he jumped off his horse with a great splash, water soaking into his already drowned clothing.  He stood there for a moment, his legs engulfed in deep brown water in the flooded rice-field.  He had been riding for most of the day—half way to his journey's end.  Half way to his death, half way to his life, half way to his brother, half way from his wife—he was alone now, within the glassy lake whose edges moved and vibrated with each passing wind.  His journey and fate lay parallel to this road, and once he reached his destination, he would see, truly, once and for all, whether his destiny was on this earth, or above, amid the great stars of his father.  Fate would be concluded the next day—that is, if he saw the coming dawn.

That itself seemed unlikely, for nights, alone in the wilderness, were one of the most vulnerable times a man of war and action could suffer.  Danger was rampant like the plague, and ones mind got the better of them, as they huddled, alone and cold in the dark, shivering, and trying to glue reality and distortion together.

It was nearly five in the evening, and steadying his shaky stance against the horses shuddering body, he patted its coat gently.  The animal was hot and sticky, covered in a mixture of sweat and rain, much like himself.  His thoughts had been deep on this journey—there had been much to think over, much over looked, and, sadly he admitted, it was he to blame.  Inuyasha had allowed his thoughts to journey high above the clouds to where happiness lay—but now that he was beneath them once again, the shades of grey and white and black distorted his vision and regret followed him with each step.

"You did well, Umeboshi_, _you did well."  Inuyasha sighed gently, resting his head against the saddle.  

There had been the matter with Miroku, of course.  For the past three months he hadn't a clue on where his advisor was, let alone if he was still alive.  He had allowed his emotions to get the better of him, something Miroku had continually warned him of.  But it was too late for Miroku, only time would tell if that wound would heal. 

Inuyasha knew that he had betrayed Miroku.  Yes, he had pride enough to admit he had fallen prey to Naraku's temptations.  He had gone against his advisor's word.  And where had it left him?  An ally to a man he did not trust for something as simple as a bet?  No, Naraku was foul and dangerous—and it had been his weakness and want for Kikyou that had allowed the dark lord to consume his soul.

He hated himself and even more; only one thing kept him going, the promise of Kikyou and the end to the war.

Inuyasha both loved and hated that woman more than he could bear. 

Kagome, despite her lack of presence rested heavily on his mind.  He could not help but feel guilty in his regards towards her.  He liked the woman well enough, and he would even dare to say he admired and respected her—but now nothing could justify his feelings, now that Kikyou had once again returned to his life.  Inuyasha could not expect himself to choose between the woman he once loved and his wife—but hadn't the decision already been made?  Did not Kagome now lay tossed aside in some unknown sector of the world?  Yes, she did, and although Inuyasha would not have it any other way—pain and resentment rested on his heart, for he knew, he had done one of the most despicable actions ever.  Inuyasha had thrown away his wife, a woman who was long dead in his eyes, for another…He had been cruel and needlessly so.

Yet what could be done, Inuyasha thought fitfully.  A divorce against her would blacken both their names forever.  Each would be shunned even more so from society, and his house, no doubt, would run into extinction.  Inuyasha could not destroy his father's name.  That too, was beneath him.

Yet what _was _to be done?  What was to be done?

Inuyasha could not even begin to wonder what actions he could take—and the guilt weighed heavy on his heart.  He had betrayed what was legally his; he had thrown her away by the wayside.  For months he had tried not thought of her, but this had been purposefully so.  Even against his better will, while lying in Kikyou's arms, he had thought of her.  Thought of a future he could have had, but had not chosen.  But, Inuyasha, he had no regrets…he _didn't._

There were so many questions, so many other veiled threats and whispers that hung on his mind that he could not help but force his thoughts in another direction—to the present, to the future, but not, _not, _to the past. If he thought about that, he would only drown in his own fears…and now was not the time.  War was on, a battle against his brother, against his fellow countryman. 

He had parted from his men at least three hours ago and given their command to a General Musou, a man that Miroku, some months ago, had suggested partake in this war.  Miroku seemed now but a memory, and amongst the loneliness of this deserted field, he, Inuyasha for the first time in month's felt the pain that his friend was far away in places unknown.

The wind howled about him, and raindrops, sharp like daggers stung at his skin.  He had to find safe shelter before night.  Being caught in the Yoi-Tenryu River Point and just barely off the Kei Road was dangerous, even to the most skilled of warriors.  Thankfully, there was a low-lying mountain range bathed in deep forests.  There, amongst the hills, he would find refuge in a cave he remembered from his youth.  There he would find safety.

Guiding the horse through the flooded rice plane, Inuyasha stepped slowly forward, his clothes sticking to his sides, making the journey long and arduous.   As he made his way across the wind-swept terrain, thoughts flooded through his head, thoughts and memories he had not allowed himself to think for so long.  At Naraku's castle, he had kept his emotions inside, enclosed and it almost tore him from the inside out.

The rain had lessoned some now, and the world was in the process of drying off as best as it was able to.  From the boughs, water droplets, as large as ornaments on a tree, hung on their bare branches—for their leaves had blown off in the sudden and devastatingly strong gusts of wind.  The world was throwing off its beauty and preparing for winter—winter a time of cold reflection.  Winter, a time of death and stillness, winter, Inuyasha's most hated season of all…

Inuyasha sighed, and Umeboshitrotted forward.  The cave he knew of was just over the next hill and deep enough into the forest not to be easily discovered by Sesshoumaru's men.  He and his brother had happened upon it once in their youth, in a water-colored memory of happiness—a time in which father had been alive, and smiles had been so beautifully painted on all their faces.  In that time, that one golden memory, their smiles had been true, their smiles had been real, and as the two silver haired boys had crept into the cave, both slightly nervous, their father's jovial chuckle ringing throughout their ears…

Sleep hung at his eyelids, and brushing it away fervently, Inuyasha swore softly.  That memory always brought a smile and warm feeling his body, making him sleepy.  But memories proved dangerous, even to one such as him.  In truth, Inuyasha just wanted this war over.  It didn't really matter whether or not he won—he had Kikyou, which was all he wanted.  The world could crumble, his brother could die, his lands be destroyed, his wife forever forgotten…all could fall to ruins; all could disappear, if only she remained with him.  He was greedy, this he knew, but had not he suffered for so many years?  Did his happiness constitute anything at all?

Over the years, his brother had suffered losses from great amounts of men and resources—surely this war, these attacks, had been enough to make his intentions known? Would this conflict end soon?  Would Sesshoumaru prove undefeated, and would he, Inuyasha, crumble once again?  Would Sesshoumaru once again take everything he had held dear?  Would he be forced to watch another murder?

_Why did you do it, Sesshoumaru? _Over the course of his life, Inuyasha had asked this question many a time.  Sesshoumaru was a bloodthirsty youkai; this Inuyasha knew and had witnessed many a time before.  Yet, what had been the motive behind his actions on that warm summer morning?  Had Inuyasha offended him in some way?  Had Sesshoumaru, himself, fallen for Kikyou?  This seemed unlikely, the fact that a woman could ever touch Sesshoumaru's heart—no, the thought was nearly impossible.  Sesshoumaru?  Fall prey to such things?

No.  It was unrealistic.  He brother was as cold as a stinging sword, and just as brutal.

Was this…damnation, worth his time and effort?  Was it worth the lives of his people, the destruction of his lands…?  Was Sesshoumaru's wrath and destruction upon the world more than necessary?  What would it accomplish?  It was time, Inuyasha decided, that this family conflict ended, and whether the odds should prove favorable or ill, he would take him.  Inuyasha would grow up, and accept his fate if that was what the gods above him had predicted.  If it was life, so be it. If it was death, so be it. 

**** 

The bushes hung wet and black with water, their forms hardly decipherable against the darkness of the overhanging bows of the forest.  The wind whispered through its leaves and branches, softly and swiftly, causing a light musical sympathy to ensue.  The dark brush parted, not but one hundred meters way and through the tangle of leaves and moss, General Kyokotsu slowly narrowed his snake-like eyes.  There, in the deep murky green of the valley, there, among the darkness, the color of red splashed and flashed, almost as though beckoning all onlookers forward.  In such a terrain as this, it was foolery indeed to wear such a shade…and the general's lips formed into a great gaping smirk.  Even amongst the scattered droplets of rain, the wind, and the great bows the trees, all was visible…and oh, it was too perfect, too perfect to imagine.

A filter of thoughts ran through Kyokotsu's head, but almost automatically, he strung the bow.  It quivered and whispered, just like the rain and wet about him. 

My, my, Inuyasha is too risky to wear such obvious colors out in the open… 

It was almost too perfect.  By the palpable posture it was obvious the youkai lord was bordering on exhaustion, and perhaps even mental collapse.  His ears were drooped and un-alert—no doubt, only sleep rested on his mind, if not darker images at work.  Yes, _Shinigami_ was awakening once again, after a long sleep from its confined quarters.

Kyokotsu smirked, and scratched his stubble.  He hadn't shaved since last Wednesday and an unruly amount of hair was beginning to appear…soon, if such trend continued, he would have a beard, and he would be unrecognizable to his enemies.  He had faced the hanyou Lord Inuyasha in war before, losing more than his dignity, but his pride as well. It was now time to wreak his revenge along the unsuspecting and innocent being, down there, among the rice fields…

The bow quivered in the strong, whip-like zephyr, and steadying his crouching position he glanced back over his shoulders.  His men, no, more like Naraku's men, had stopped for the night.  Their aim was the southern most entrance into Inuyasha's valley.  There, the men would make a great sweep through the dale, pillaging and destroying the territory—par directions.  Kyokotsu was unsure what his lord had up his sleeve, but he did not question.  He was but a general and a slight alcoholic at that…

"God, I could use some heated Choya…" he snorted, rubbing some clear liquid away from his nose.  The weather was terrible—cold and wet, and only doomed to get worse.  Every couple of years when the unpredictable Chinese rains came, the country was always hit hard.  Hopefully, those rice-farmers with any brains, had harvested their crops early.  The summer had been fairly hot, and so premature ripeness could be expected.

The general was on duty now, guarding the entrance to the cave.  How their lord had known of its existence still remained a mystery to him—but the general wasn't complaining.  After all, it was better than having to spend a night out in the wet.

He was soaked through, after-all…

He blinked, feeling exhaustion set into his system, he shifted his legs somewhat, allowing the blood to flow to those appendages once again.

Kyokotsu's eyes narrowed, and lifting the bow up, he stood, out of the brush, his aim true…to the direct back of Inuyasha.  Although Naraku had instructed that nothing be done with Inuyasha until he reached the Shikon no Tama shrine, Kyokotsu reasoned, how would the lord Naraku know if something _unforeseen _was to happen?

_It's not like an arrow through the back will kill him…instantly. _

His chapped lips turned up.  It was always so much fun preying upon the oblivious. 

The bow was taut now, and the steel arrow glinted in the weakening light of day.  Droplets hung onto the string, collected, and fell to the dark dank ground bellow.

The General Kyokotsu released the arrow, almost tenderly.  It shot through the air, cutting through the rain, the trees, the air, the world—fast and true was its target.  It only laid for one, the hanyou lord, set to die by the war's end.

Inuyasha was not allowed to live.  His arrow, that now sped like a magnet towards his back—it was destined for none other.  The arrow was drawn to the scent of death…

There was a terrible sound.  Flesh, and metal colliding…a great rip, a thud…

Inuyasha collapsed with a splash; crumbling to the mud, face down in foot of water, red slowly creeping out from his body, surrounding him and enclosing him in a womb…He was but a picture of red, the green surrounding him on all sides, the world goading him on, smirking, laughing, slapping his face with the rain, which had started once again.  Yes, the world of green and blue and grey scorned and pitied and provoked the young lord, who now laid, quite still, in the water, his eyes closed, unseeing of the water that now pulled him to his murky end.

The silver haired hanyou did not move…he did not resist death as he floated into the darkness…

****

***

**

*

AN: I know. You hate me. Cliffhanger. Haven't really done that for a while, though, have I?  This chapter was originally going to be so much longer, but since I am having such a hard time recently, I figured I would just make it shorter, so you guys could read it sooner.  Hope that helped you guys out a bit. Maybe short chapters are the key, perhaps.

If you have any questions, please ask me. Kyokotsu is actually an anime character from Inuyasha, case you didn't know. Some random guy I picked up…because I needed some more people. Generals and stuff. If someone could please send me a picture of this Goshinki, or whatever his name is, that would be much appreciated. That way, I can work him into the story, somehow…

As far as the bit with General Musou goes, I just had to add him in, so just pretend he isn't evil. He was too cute and I could not resist.  I know, it makes no sense, but does it really have to? Just imagine Musou as a nice, beautiful, pretty boy…with *no* ulterior motives! ^-^"

Read, review, say achu!

Questions? Comments? Just want to rant?

E-mail me: cappiepost@yahoo.com

Feel like visiting my site, for some odd reason? 

Want to know what the _hell_ I am talking about territory wise? 


	31. the song of the forgotten

Title: Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

Rating: pg13

Genre: romance/action/adventure/drama

Spoilers: none

AN:  It took me a long time to get chapter 30 out, and probably even longer for 31. I compiled all the chapters of Shadows into one long thing (279+ pages) and while I was reading through it, I remembered about all the things that I started and left unfinished. This chapter is to clear this up, somewhat, as well as get rid of the cliffhanger I left on the last chapter.  In this chapter you can expect to see the reemergence of Kai (remember him? I didn't!), Kaede and Hiroyoshi, more about "the swords", end of the cliffhanger, and (due to popular demand _only_) Sesshoumaru-sama.

***

Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

Chapter 31

The Song of the Forgotten 

***

Title: Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

Rating: pg13

Genre: romance/action/adventure/drama

Spoilers: none

AN:  It took me a long time to get chapter 30 out, and probably even longer for 31. I compiled all the chapters of Shadows into one long thing (279+ pages) and while I was reading through it, I remembered about all the things that I started and left unfinished. This chapter is to clear this up, somewhat, as well as get rid of the cliffhanger I left on the last chapter.  In this chapter you can expect to see the reemergence of Kai (remember him? I didn't!), Kaede and Hiroyoshi, more about "the swords", end of the cliffhanger, and (due to popular demand _only_) Sesshoumaru-sama.

***

Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

Chapter 31

The Song of the Forgotten 

***

The rain had lessoned with the coming of night; those two elements, so dark and dreary, fighting for control.  Two cats, a black and a white, two pieces of the Go board, fighting, fighting until the end.

Amidst the dripping world of the present, amid the towering trees, the small shrine was situated quite picturesquely amongst the green.  It was traditional and Shinto in its design, no splash of red; no great Chinese roof highlighting the hillside.  There was only the earth, molded and sculpted into the architecture.  It was the forgotten Manabe Shrine of the Eastern Lands.

A figure moved across the great gravel covered plane, a simple bamboo broom planted firmly in her hand.  Her dark eyes, filled with an unknown grief, strayed from the temple and out onto the valley which was presented below.

This was the beauty of the forgotten.  The forgotten could look over the land, seeing what no one could see, plan and plot and wait.  This was its splendor.

The valley floor was calm and peaceful, the green rice fields swaying softly in the breeze, no longer torn by the violent storm that had temporarily passed.  Tonight and possibly tomorrow would be calm and star-studded as the eye of the storm passed overhead.

The figure cast her deep dark eyes downward and sighed. The war had begun, though it was as silent and stealthy as the night.  Yet come tomorrow, the land would awake to unimaginable blood floating in its once green depths.

But for tonight, tonight there would be peace.

"Do not concern yourself too much, Kaede," a voice behind the figure said soothingly.

The form turned around, her dark eyes clouded, her long ebony hair swaying in the light breeze.  Her lips were parted and her expression troubled.

"I know it was unwise of me to have trusted him so.  We did not make it clear, that night, about what Naraku is truly capable of."  She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and scowled angrily, "I remember his hotheadedness of the past.  It was foolish of me to think he could change so greatly in eighteen years."

She looked up towards the person, Hiroyoshi, her husband, and waited for his response.  The man had shifted his expression upward and towards the sky, "And what will we do, then, hm?  When the wounded remain dying in the fields, will we turn an empty eye, because of the foolishness of the past?"

Kaede followed his gaze to the rapidly moving clouds above.  It was becoming night quickly, and soon they would have to ring the temple bell.  Those farmers, still fearless enough to brave the elements and the troubles of war would soon return to their homes that called out for them, unheard, through the breeze.

"No, we shall not," Kaede replied at length, her thoughts lethargic.  "We shall allow them to have a place of refuge.  For all sides."

 "Even Naraku's men?"  Hiroyoshi questioned, sternly gazing at her, his eyes serious.

She nodded curtly, "Yes, even Naraku's.  Those men do not know what evil infests them, but we can overlook them for blind deeds."

A grin slowly appeared on Hiroyoshi's lips and he quirked amusedly, "Yes, this is the Kaede I married."

Kaede chose not to reply but silently felt out for his hand in the growing twilight.  Come tomorrow, would the war separate them even farther than death could?  Their fingers intertwined softly, and closing her eyes, Kaede inhaled a large amount of breath and leaned anxiously on her husband's shoulder.

Humming slightly to herself, she whispered to the night, "Isn't it amazing how far the bounds of love can take you?"

Farther than the sea, the night replied, farther than the sea. 

***

It was a red blanket that covered him.  Red in all its layers, one that he could not escape from for it was as impossible as time.  But then again, he did not wish to.  He knew he could die, and would have wished it if possible.  He would have drowned in that water at that moment, and he tried, tried to fall into the darkness that seemed so comforting and simple.  Death, to him, was just as intangible as the clouds.

No matter how far he reached, he just couldn't touch their feathery substance.

Yet perhaps, perhaps, perhaps, this would be his moment.  This would be the end.  He did not desire the end, truthfully.  But his regrets were futile and unavoidable.  To die now…

He could feel the blood leaving his body, only encouraged by the presence of water all around him.  The footsteps of his attackers shouted in his ears.  They would come, and destroy his body, and he would no longer be Inuyasha, lord of the eastern lands.

Just as long as Naraku was killed, tortured, destroyed; just as long as he failed, Inuyasha would die happy.

And for some odd reason, Inuyasha knew that Sesshoumaru would take care of the bastard.  If the youkai could not get his revenge upon his hanyou half-brother, who better to feel his wrath than the hell-sent demon himself?

It was a fading twilight, and already the moon had appeared on the horizon?  So early in its cycle had it risen?  The creamy orb would soon look over the land, and twinkle down onto all.  Tomorrow night would be the full moon, but already, he could feel the power coursing within him.

This had been his genius, hadn't it?  To attack when he was ripe and ready to be picked was the key to his victory.  Yes, this had been his plan, his thought, and he digested it over the past months.

But it was over now.  The steps were nearly upon him, and the darkness was clouding his vision.  He had gone blind with death.

He fought it no longer; he thought no longer, he lived no longer; for there was nothing else besides destiny…

…

But was destiny?  Was destiny created by his own actions, or by that of others?  Was destiny something he created or was it foreordained?  Was he just a piece to be controlled and captured in a game of Go?  Would his existence be of any importance?  Would this last and final move win the game before it had started?  Could he afford to let life get in his way from his goals?

No.

The blood that poured from his back—was this equal of the blood that would be shed at another point in time?  Was this not indeed his destiny, or did it lie somewhere else, beyond the next hill?  Did it lay slashed by the hand of his brother?  Was his life rightfully Naraku's property?  In whose palm would he eventually fall into?  Would there ever be one?

All were questions as large and as unfathomable as existence he now floated amidst, a lotus among the muck?  Could he really be satisfied with that which he could see but could not hold?

He thought not.

No.  

He did not want to die.  Not yet.  Yes, of course, it was a fact; he would die eventually—most likely during this war.  But no, not now.  If he was to die, he deserved something more spectacular, or at least to be surrounded by his kinsman.  But alone, in the dark, where no one would find his body for days to come? 

Such a death was not for him.

He pulled himself, grasping onto to any ounce of energy he had within him, holding on tightly to the promise of tomorrow.  And there, in the growing night, Inuyasha arrived once again at the fading day.  

Fear gripped at his heart as did the water.  Terror held him close in its crimson embrace.  His eyes were red like the war, and like the war, there could be no stopping him now…

***

The rain had stopped and so had she.  For the night she had managed to find residence in a secluded town off the Den Road, so small and insignificant it was not even alluded to on the map.  But find residence she had, she as so, she was content with it all, with it all.

Having retired early for the night after breakfasting lightly on miso soup, rice, and a bit of meat, she stared up at the heavens.  The clouds, like her fate, were beginning to clear.  If there was such a thing as destiny, she could feel it enclosing about her now, she could feel its hands, so warm and sensuous.

What a flirt destiny was.  How it danced before you, how it strutted and laughed and pointed.  One could chance it, but to what avail?  You would find yourself within its grasp sooner or later.

The first star had appeared and the clouds had separated, their edges burned with the splash of silver.  They moved along, their fates and burdens traveling to the north.  She bid them farewell, knowing that tomorrow their relatives would visit once again.

No, in this fading twilight, there was only herself within these shoji screens.  Kikyou was alone, free, and flying to the side of where she belonged.

It was reaching the five o'clock hour and the sun was setting early on such a day.  It did not come as much of a surprise.  Perhaps, the sun realized, as she did, that tomorrow would be a long, hard and bloody day.

Closing her eyes, the humid wet air surrounded her form, and she gingerly wrapped the light covers about her, not yet ready to surrender herself to that darkness which continually scratched at her eyes.  To her, sleep was a deranged beast, pillaging her body at all times.

Yes, sleep and death, they were but the same.  Yet one was much longer in its duration.

Heaving a sigh, she rested her head against the wooden pillar and closed her eyes.  Just a little longer, just a little longer…

Red.  Blood. This was all she saw. 

Her deep black eyes opened with a start, and gasping for breath, she tried to concentrate.  Her powers, once free of Naraku's domain were returning, returning quickly like a landslide ready to consume her any second.  She had to concentrate, for what she saw; these were images that would never reappear again…

Crimson, covering him like a blanket.

It was Inuyasha, swaying underneath a blanket of green rice fields, falling into this pit of moist darkness.  He was breathing faintly, still alive, still having the will to continue on.

But he did not wish it.  Perhaps he too saw that destiny was inevitable.

Kikyou was not chasing that fiend this time; destiny was perhaps unavoidable, if only temporary.  Like the sun, destiny would rise again, but not for a few hours at least.

She stood quickly and made her way to the open window, her breath filled with grief and pain.  She had to help him, even in her weakened half-alive state.  Inuyasha was the only love she would ever know, and through life and through death this truth would remain the same.  Yes, she would wait there amid the rubble of her life—but Inuyasha, his temple had yet to be destroyed.  This was only a temporary crack, she would remedy it quickly.

He could not fall.  _Not _now.  _Not _when there was so much to lose. 

"Do not believe, Inuyasha," Kikyou whispered up into the night sky, "that I will let you die."

Quickly grabbing her provisions, yet to be unpacked, she quickly hurried down the stairs.  If she was not fast enough, the boy would die; of all tragedies in the war, this would be the greatest.  Inuyasha would not, he_ could_ not die.  She would not allow it.

Throwing a few coins onto the front desk, she dashed to her horse and swung quickly over his sides.  Within a second she had taken off down the wet and muddy road, once again riding against the currents of destiny.  If she could just hold out a little longer, if she could just put the pieces together, and into the correct positions than she would die with no regrets.

Regrets were not for the young, but she was old now and she was not allowed such indulgences.

Speeding off into the night, she tried to concentrated her borrowed power onto Inuyasha's form, lying their, still and quiet in that wind swept terrain.  She did not know how effective this effort would be, but all she needed was time.  She was but a woman, half-dead, a walking zombie, still not yet come to terms with her fading life.  Like a firefly alight until the end, she would try if it was the conclusion.  To die to save the one she loved, yes, there would be no greater death than that.  If the boy came too close to death, if he became too frightened, if he allowed fear to grip at his heart, then all would be lost to that fear.

Like the blood that surrounded him, his eyes would turn red, and there would be no hope of survivors.

But then, with Inuyasha, there hardly were any.  The boy was a double-edged sword, and none were free from his wrath…not even she.

The footsteps echoed softly behind her, the footsteps of destiny, so close and so far in the bemused world.

***

The Lord Sesshoumaru glared down onto the rain drenched valley.  His expression was hard and ruthless.  There was no glimmer of emotions he had so passionately displayed at dawn.  There was just cruel reality.

Picking his way amongst the pond of grass, Sesshoumaru held back a sigh and returned to his horse that was nibbling at the leaves of a camphor tree.  Behind the great creature lay a swarm of forms; tents, human bodies mulling about the camp, armor, knives, blood, and swords.  All the ingredients of war lay before him.  It was his recipe.

The horse grunted as Sesshoumaru pulled himself atop and nudged it forward.  He was to ride on tonight to Tairo, before his men come the next day.   One man could easily infiltrate any enemy territory…or youkai, in his case…

And there was only one person he wished to meet amongst the wreckage of war-torn bodies.

Even now, this early, only one day into the blood-feast, if he could end it, if there was some way, any way, and then he would find it.

The sword, Tetsusaiga, it was nearly a memory.  Of course, he would desire it—he had always desired it…but now it no longer seemed important.  That piece of metal, that sword, was one of his youth, his desire to kill, to inflict pain.  He was older now, as much as he denied it, he saw that blood and war only created unhappiness.

He had learned this too late in life.  The chase was over.  The play was coming to a close.  The climax of his youth had ended, and now there was but gradual slope to his demise.  Whether or not he would reach the bottom today, tomorrow, or in ten years; it was of no matter.

Tetsusaiga seemed so distant and unattainable at one time, but now, he realized, in spirit he had always carried Tetsusaiga within his soul.  He had wanted to kill in his youth, kill for the cruelties and uncertainties and injustices.

Yes, his father had seen Sesshoumaru's lust for blood, even early in his youth.  This had been the wisdom of Inutaishou.

And only now would Sesshoumaru admit to this downfall. 

The horses steps quickened beneath his feet.  The country side sped by, a Noh play, only the basics in the world now.  Only the essence.

His soldiers had killed forty some men today on the way to the Minami Road and over the Tenryu River.  These men had been part of a small brigade and his own solders had cut through them like a katana through the soft surface of tofu. 

The blood had spilled, yes; the men had died, yes.  They had not been his men, but his brother's.  Even if he did not wish to fight, he could not live and die all in the same breath.  If life required that he win this war, if life required that he fight this war, he would do so.

The rain had stopped now and the clouds were clearing as the eye of the storm approached in the midnight hours.  The stars twinkled high above his head, stitching in the great kimono that covered him protectively.  It reminded him of her, and the ever-blue color of her eyes, that daily, with the force of the storm would turn from clear, to cloudy, to tempestuous, and once again back to clear.

Such was the cycle of that strange girl, the one he would not forget.

Was she high in the mountains by now, fleeing to the safety which she both loved and hated?  Was she more content?

A poem from the great Chinese master Tu Fu entered into his head.  It was a poem he knew she would have liked.  It symbolized that longing which could never be quenched.  Like the windswept sand dunes of Hokkaido, there was only that infinite silence and longing…

_By bent grasses_

_In a gentle wind_

_Under straight mast_

_I'm alone tonight_

_And the stars hang_

_Above the broad plain_

_But the moon's afloat_

_In this great river_

_Oh, where's my name_

_Among the poets?_

_Official rank?_

_Retired for ill health?_

_Drifting, drifting_

_What am I more than_

_A single gull_

_Beneath sky and earth?_

But that was just regret for his youth, one that he was not allowed.  He cherished those memories, he fed upon them, finding strength…but the god's would not be so kind as to actually grant him happiness, would they?  No.  He thought not.  

There was only revenge to him…a revenge as sour and repulsive, one he had waited too long to savor. 

The countryside flew by on the back of the horse, and willingly, Sesshoumaru sped towards his brother.  His fool hardy, idiotic brother.  It was all but complete now, this circle.  The girl, the one object he had wished for, over Tetsusaiga and Tenseiga, it was his brother's once again. 

Ah, how ironic were the gods.

A smile came to Sesshoumaru's lips as he rode through the hand-stitched blanket of night.  Yes, yes, the war had begun.  Blood had been spilled.  More would fall to the ground tomorrow, and the day after and the day after.  But it was all-meaningless...  Until he met Inuyasha in war, there would be nothing.

All he could do now was to wait for his brother to come to him, as he would eventually do.

The road sped by into the night and he was enticed by its lull.  He had not slept in some twenty-four hours, and oh, so much had happened.  He had bid farewell to Kagome, the one girl he would ever truly love, he had ridden off to war, killed the innocent, and was hurrying on to kill more.

But this was just a dance.

And dance he would, until he met that partner that he was so itching to meet. 

Inuyasha…

***

_Kill…I will kill them all…_

The hanyou stood engulfed in that dark sea of water, his eyes as red and as hungry as the pitiful youkai that crawled on the battlefields scavenging for food.  He saw nothing but the bodies before them, their steps echoing in his ears.  He saw their arrows, their pointed swords, he saw them all.

But none ever pierced through the red fog his brain that had now been consumed.

It was over for these men now.  Their deaths would be cruel and painful and meaningless.

And how willingly they walked towards death, shrouded in its crimson robes.

The great breast of a man walked, no, stumbled forward, a great smirk spread across his features.  He thought himself the victor already.

But to Inuyasha, the wound which now poured from his back was only flesh.  He would live still.  He would still live, die and kill.

The man was but ten meters away, his sword already withdrawn and glinting in the growing twilight.  The man lunged with all the fierceness of a mountain storm, victory already painted on his features.

But rain and water and blood washed away the paint, and Inuyasha moved as well.  His steps were calm and slicing, perfectly refined in their movements.  He attacked to kill.

And kill he did.  His great claws, now as sharp as razors, crashed through Kyokotsu, feeling the blood sprout and cover his hand as he ripped through the armor and into the skin and deep into the dark red abyss.  The blow was so powerful and deadly that it traveled through the figure in a dull squish.  

For a minute there was nothing, no movement but the bending blades of the grass.  And then, the blood, like the rain itself, poured down from the heavens, blemishing Inuyasha and forming a new man under his reign of terror.  Kyokotsu fell with a splash into the water, his eyes unseeing, his mouth still smirking until death, his pupils unfocused and dull like bits of worn glass.

The man was dead.

This was not enough for the hanyou, and he set out, his footsteps quick and nimble.  He could smell the meat that lay just beyond the horizon, tempting him with its untainted brilliance.  He moved forward, a magnet, drawn by reasons he could not comprehend.  To kill was happiness, and happiness was to kill.  There was no thought, no method in his way.  He just wanted to feel those organs against his claws as they burst under his touch. 

He wanted to become death itself, for death itself would soon become him.

There was no Kikyou now.  There was no war.  Sesshoumaru did not exist in his eye, the swords, Naraku, Kagome, the world.  There was nothing but this urge to kill.

And he obeyed with vengeance…

The soldiers were asleep in their mountain-top cave, and a death already surrounded them.

Inuyasha moved closer, his eyes alit, his teeth gleaming in the weak light of day, his fingers dripping red with blood.  Silently, he moved softly into the cave. 

***

It was dark by the time she arrived at the place.  She had been confident that she had found the correct place as she had seen in her vision, yet Kikyou was uncertain and hesitant.  She could not sense Inuyasha's presence anywhere in the vicinity.  Fear clung to her heart; perhaps he was dead, and whisked away to be tortures in the dark dank recesses of some unknown fortress.

Where was he? 

The wind seemed abnormally warm, considering the weather that the world had suffered today.  Yes, on this thinly clouded night, there were still sparsely veiled threats of the summer heat lingering in the air.  Perhaps she had been wrong in her predictions earlier in the day; perhaps summer was not yet over, perhaps that season of ripeness had not yet collapsed.

Perhaps she had been wrong about everything.

It was possible, she mused silently to herself, standing in the deep flooded rice field, that she had misread her signs, that somehow, she did not know when or how such an action would come about.  If Inuyasha was not here, then where else could he be?

Guiding her horse through the field, she sighed.  Whether or not Inuyasha was alive or dead, she still had to find him.  If he was alive, there were her warnings he had yet to hear.  If he was dead, then he would need a proper funeral with her by his side.  No, she would not cruelly leave Inuyasha alone in the darkness of the underworld.  No, she may have been cold, but no, never cruel.

The wind whistled through the expanse, and through her ears, unbinding her hair and stroking it gently.

But Kikyou did not notice, she only continued towards the black hills before her, hoping to find a place to sleep for the night.

The underbrush seemed to almost part on its own as she approached it, their edges trampled and bent down as though some one had formerly walked the same route as her.  But, then again, she was too tired and exhausted to notice.  She needed her spirits of the dead to guide her along.  Yes, there would be many now, now that the war had begun.

She was sure that much blood had been spilt today, this she discerned.  If that was the only thing she knew now, that was it…

The moon had been behind a cloud for a great period of time, their rain burdened depths moving slowly, slowly, across the great vista in the darkness of the night.  Perhaps, the orb had wished to hide, to not have to see the burden that the earth now carried.

But now, that silver orb had braved its fears and reemerged, glorious and shining once again…

And as it did, a tortured scream filled the night, a scream of terror, or fear, of sorrow, of sadness, or regret.  It was a scream of insanity.

Grasping the horse in horror, Kikyou clung heavily onto its edges.  There, sprawled before her, were…_things_… 

She did not wish to call them bodies, for that was not what they were.  There was not one intact form there, not one thing that remotely could be considered _human. _But human they were.  Fingers were sprawled across the ground like cherry blossoms, torsos resting against the earth like old and rotten logs in which animals hid.  And, yes, animals were doing so at this minute.  Rats and youkai alike were scourging over the bodies, their red and blue eyes alight with a primal hunger, their teeth bared.

Yes, the battlefield was their breeding ground.  It was their water hole.  Anyone who dared to come too close would suffer the consequences.

The horse began to grow restless beneath her hand, and a sweat had formed like anxiety on Kikyou's brow.  No matter how tired, exhausted, and worried she was, this was no place for her to be.  Without giving the body parts and the animals that now hung over them like fog a second glance, she scrambled up the horse and kicked it with such a fury that it took off, even before her feet reached the thin coat of hair. 

The animal swam through the sea like the great wind god itself, blessed and carried with the burden.

As the rice fields blurred into one under the silver gaze of the moon, as the hills became but boils in a stew, as the world melted and formed once again, thoughts raced though Kikyou's mind.  So, there had been a massacre.  And, Kikyou thought sadly, there was only one person who could inflict so much damage so quickly.

The fear still clung tight to her heart; a fox being chased.

It had been Inuyasha, blind and consumed with fear and grief and pain, yes, it had been him all along.  It was he who was the murderer in this war, it was he who raped and pillaged the world from beneath her feet.  In that half deranged state of his, oh, anything was possible.  The stars could be mochi for plucking and he could eat their soft and chewy depths.  In that blood driven time there was nothing the hanyou could not do.

There was nothing at all.

Into the dark she rode, to the side of her lover, to the side of the murderer, who still yet would prove his worth in this war.  

Once again, she sped off into the wilds.  She knew not where Inuyasha lay, but she had a feeling this conflict would come to a close in the place that it had begun.

Reaching the main road at last, she redirected her horse towards the road that led to her homeland, once so far away and forgotten.  She rode to end this conflict of the future to where the conflict of the past was born.  She rode to the shrine of the Shikon no Tama…

***

The moon hung full in the dawn hours, still low on the western horizon, still visible.  Its form was not yet consumed by the blue light of the mild-mannered morning, splashed only with the occasional clouds.  The scent of rain still hung on the wing, but not with the approaching viciousness that had happened the day before.

The world was still drying off, still sweeping the morbid petals off a textured coat.  The world still had yet to pull itself from this bath.

Amongst the dripping world, figures stirred in the early morning mist, not yet fled into the shallows of the caves with the first touch of the sunlight.  Their movements were quick and hurried, yet oddly slow and laborious.

The two silhouettes towards the front of the formation paused and looked back at those who remained.  All seemed still and hushed, and even their words were muffled by the sunlight, now beginning to peak out from the ridges in the mountains.

It had been a long and difficult night for the moon high above; it had been arduous.

Those two figures in the front made their way to the group, and mingled between them, embracing at times, sharing words; conversations that the world would never know amongst the silence of the rose-colored day.

And then, as quick as foxes, or the god of the deer itself, the two sped off down the hill and into the dark murky brush that awaited them.  They head down into the blood-filled valley, aware of their intentions for each knew what lay shrouded on the wing.  They knew what evil they were drawn to, but such was the price of loyalty in a day and age such as these.

The figurines still remaining at the top of the hill did not move for some time, and so still did they stand that they seemed to have sprouted and grown leaves themselves, finding much more happiness here with the larks and thrushes.

But move they did at last, along the rocky ridge, slipping and falling with every step.  The world did not want them to continue.  Did they wish for them to follow their comrades?  What did they wish for?  Was there nothing?

They continued, one step after another, the mild air of the dawn calming their heated and anxious nerves.  There had been no sleep last night, only walking, one foot in front of the other.  Much distance had to be traveled now, for safety was beyond the clouds, beyond the horizon, and the group only knew this too well.

Kouga, the leader of the wolf clan, paused and looked behind him at the headstrong girl who was climbing over a fallen mossy log.  Her cheeks were flushed with the exercise, and he soon found himself entranced with her.  Never had a seen a girl so strange and odd as that; so carefree and obstinate. 

It intrigued him.

"Do you need any help?"  He called back, a calloused hand resting on his pelt-clad form.

The girl, her blue eyes glistening, replied sternly, "No, not from the likes of you."

The grin only grew wider across Kouga's features, and he watched her with much amusement.  He would yet make this girl his.  Against all odds, he swore.

A few minutes more he watched her, until she caught up with him, resting causally against a great pine tree that had been there for many years.

Looking up at him, she rubbed a bit of dirt away from her cheek and questioned, "Well?  What are you standing here for?"

Kouga said nothing, but only smirked, his fangs glinting in the early morning sun. 

"We are waiting for my men, and then, Lady Kagome, you shall know."  Kouga explained after a moment, pulling up a blade of water-pelted grass and chewing on it half-heartedly.

The blue-eyed girl huffed in annoyance but bit her tongue and said nothing.  He, Kouga, was not as stupid as she assumed.  He saw how she missed Miroku and Sango already, and they had not parted but an hour ago.  He saw that Sango and Miroku had held some unseen bond with the girl that he could never hope to attain. At least, not yet. 

The other members of his wolf-clan finally arrived, and waiting for a moment before he began to lecture (for making everyone wait always added bits of dramatic effort that always helped. Always). 

"Now that Miroku and Sango have gone on their merry ways," Kouga began, flashing a blue-eyed glare to Kagome who promptly looked away, sighing heavily as she crossed her arms.  Gods, she was a feisty one.  Continuing to nibble on the blade of grass, he expanded, "We need to get down off these mountains and into the valley behind so we can take the road that'll lead to Sango's place, or whatever she calls it."

The members of the wolf tribe nodded in agreement, a few of them mumbling questions and comments to one another.

"We shouldn't have any issues, really," Kouga enlightened, looking up at the sky, "Now that the storm has blown over for a while.  I know a guy down at the foothill who owes me a favor. We'll just take his horses from there down into the valley.  With any luck, we should be there some time tomorrow night, that is, if the weather fairs."

A wolf youkai spoke up, "I wouldn't count on that Kouga, this here is just the eye of the storm."

Spitting in the general direction of the youkai with some disdain, Kouga scoffed, "You think I didn't know that?  Gods, I know more than any of you guys here.  I'm just trying to put a 'pleasant light' on the matter, what, for the lady friend of ours."

All eyes turned to look at Kagome who just sighed in exasperation and commented tersely, "You didn't have to lie.  I know very well that we have another front moving in.  I would surmise it would be here by this afternoon or evening."

She paused, and flashed a rueful grin at Kouga who looked at her, blinking, unaware that he was blushing.

"Which means," she continued primly, "We should continue on, being that we need to get those horses soon."

The men nodded and agreed and picked up their packs which they had taken off for the time being to rest their backs.  Kouga, on the other hand, glaring feverishly at Kagome, who was smiling cheerfully, snapped, "Oi, you idiots! Who do ya think is the leader of this group, eh?  Me!  We do what _I_ say!"

The members of the clan looking up quickly returned to their places and apologized in unison.  The boys were very well trained, so it would seem.

"That's right.  Now we better be getting to those horses!  Come on!" he snarled, stomping off along the worn out mountain trail once again, mud splashing up behind his seething form.

Kagome, watching him go, smiled softly.  He was such a little boy.  It made her happy to know that there was such innocence in the blood-shed warriors.  It made her happy that she once again had found her voice, if only temporarily.  Once she would return to Inuyasha's domain, she would become a chrysanthemum: stiff and still and beautiful.  She would no longer be that zinnia that she wished to be…

***

It was dawn now.  The second day to this war.  Already, Naraku could see how beautifully his efforts were coming along.  There had been several minor battles, but nothing so great, so great as to wash the world away.

The horse beneath his figure ambled along the valley floor, being lead through a dirt road now devoid of any human figures besides those that followed him, a cloak to his uniform.

To his right another horse walked, and atop it was his most treasured of all his war-time flowers.  The fellow's name was Kai and had come to him some time ago and over and over again he had proven his worth.  Naraku often times thought that Kai loved him, but then of course, that seemed only natural since he had watched the boy grow and mature through puberty.  At first, it had been that simple raw love a child feels for their parent, but now, now with the onslaught of manhood, he could tell that something else stirred and waited in the man's depths.

In truth, Kai was hardly a man, more a creation of two worlds like his own.  The boy had been human once, before he found him, but the boy was also known for having violent tantrums, often times cutting himself and those around him.  The time that Naraku found him in the wood he had at first presumed a great battle had taken place.  Yet when he saw the boy drowning in a pool of his own blood, and everything and everyone around him dead, well then, he had known.

Kai was a man after his own heart now.

Turning towards his companion, Naraku asked, "You know of your mission then?"

Kai, turning his deep gaze towards Naraku, nodded and replied stiffly, "Yes, I am to take this road to the rear of the mountains, and there, through the mountain trail, attack Sesshoumaru's fortress."

Kai seemed nervous, Naraku noted, but then again, this had been his first call to war.  He was new and green, and that was expected of him.

"I would not be too worried if I were you, Kai.  Sesshoumaru does not expect me to attack his fortress whatsoever.  There should be no problems at all. And, if there should be, you have more than enough men to successfully complete his mission."  Naraku continued, glancing up the rapidly changing sky.  It would be morning soon, and with the onslaught of the sun, he had other places to be.  Adding as an afterthought, "I made sure of that," Naraku quietly nodded to Kai before kicking up his heals to the side of his horse.  In a moment the two were racing along the next bend, through the hills, in a world that had not yet awaken.  

Kai watched him go, his dark eyes deep and quiet, yet his reign on his grips tightened.  If he completed this mission successfully, then perhaps Naraku would take notice of him, and perhaps all his efforts would not be in vain.  But 'perhaps' was as numerous as the lilies of the valley that now bloomed on the side of the road…

***

The dawn was nearly upon them now.  Slowly, graspingly, as precarious as a child at play, the golden orb moved closer and closer, lighting the sky with milky hues.  In the distance it was still a light wash of blue, yet it was that miraculous moment in which the sky above was pale lavender, dappled with stars like tears against a woman's cheeks.

Perhaps the stars in the heavens were tears shed, and oh, how numerous they were indeed.

The battlefield had an eerie silence, one that usually accompanied death.  The crickets only chirped occasionally, as though hearing their own voice alone amongst the shadows brought fear into a heart as small as theirs.

The lord of the western lands looked about the once unblemished meadow, his golden eyes narrowed in cunning.  Yes, it had been a slaughter on both sides.  The blood had poured as thick and wet as the rains had earlier on in the day. And, so like the rains, the blood would return.  Would there be scattered thunderstorms, or continual rain day in and day out?

Yes, thunderstorms, thought Sesshoumaru, seemed better.  Although painful, and the causes of flash foods, they were also short lived.  The rain, the blood, it was all the same; yet the damage was minimal.

His boot-clad foots swiftly parted their way through the body-strewn ground.  Sightless eyes looked up at him blearily, already covered with flies.  Some solder's mouths were open, gaping, already half-nibbled upon by the night's rats.

Yes, this was the reality.

Closing his golden depths, he sighed and whispered to himself, "So, the ruins must be our ends as well?"

At that moment the first gentle rays of butter colored sun spread across the valley and highlighting Sesshoumaru's face against the darkness that still surrounded him so desperately. His eyes, although beautiful and shining, were rimmed with a night filled with lack of sleep.  His journey had been hard, a deep and troubled path through the mountain ways and across folded rivers.  

But such trivialities were the cost of war.

The lord closed his eyes for a moment.  In truth, he had not slept for a good 48 hours, and even for a youkai, his energy was growing thin.  He could feel his patience and resilience disappearing as was the night.  The air fluttered about him for a moment, and it took him but half a second to realize he was falling, falling into the death that surrounded him.

It disturbed him how comforting this idea of death felt.  It disturbed him how content he had become.

It was true: Sesshoumaru, the great lord of the western lands, has grown weak and old.

He caught himself, but just in time.  Stumbling a few steps, he found a nearby tree on which to support his rain and mud-trodden figure.  Yes, it had been a long night for him indeed.

Sesshoumaru shrugged off any emotions and slowly and successfully, with the art of a geisha, carefully arranged his features into the ones that were known and feared.  The hint of exhaustion only whispered about him, the defeat was all but non-existent.  It was only the ruthless Sesshoumaru, the killing blade, the one who would strike down his enemies.

And strike down his enemies he would, whether they be Inuyasha or Naraku.  If this was to end quickly, he knew that there was only one destination in which this war would cease to exist.  To end the started, one had to return to the beginnings.  And, deep in the back of his mind, Sesshoumaru knew where his destiny lay.  He knew that those long forgotten temple bells, now covered in secret, were the key to this war.

Whatever magic there might be hidden in the heart of man or woman, it would be found at the tori of shrine of the Shikon no Tama.

There was nothing else left today, but ride another day without rest.  The war had to end.  It was his ultimatum against the coming tide.

Making his way back towards his horse and the survivors of the battle, he heard a strangled cry amongst the wreckage.  So, someone has deceived fate, it seemed.

Arduously, Sesshoumaru crept over the piles of body until he found a pair of deep eyes looking up at him through the web of bodies.

"Can you move?" Sesshoumaru found himself asking, almost coldly, at the young man.

It surprised him when the being smirked, and replied, "But you are just the person I wished to speak to."

The man, Sesshoumaru surmised, must have gone crazy in the war zone.  Perhaps death would have been a better option for the youth.  But, he was no player of fortunes, nor did he go against the gods.

Casting a side-long glance towards the remaining solders that were circled about a small fire, he knelt down closer, his voice conveying no emotion whatsoever, after all, he was just humoring this man who now hung in limbo, a gray place between life and death.

"Yes, yes," the voice whispered softly, "You are Sesshoumaru, the lord of the western lands."

Sesshoumaru made no reply.  It was obvious who _he_ was, and there was no need to waste words when they were not needed.  Unconsciously, he found himself leaning towards the man, a bit of stubble apparent on his study features.  He was buried beneath another male, and mud had dried all about him.  A mummy perhaps, sinking to his grave.

Yet the youth, whoever he was, did not seem to give up without a fight. Yes, death was but an adversary, something he would eventually succumb to, but not now, not now.

"Take me with you," the voice came again, stronger this time, revealing a deep rich tone, classically trained.  No, this was no ordinary solider that now fell amid the crashing waves of feudal war.

The man seemed to realize how crazy his idea sounded, and added hurriedly, though he winced slightly, "I will explain later.  We are friends, I swear to you on all that I hold dear."

Sesshoumaru's eyebrows rose.  Had he not been affected by the likes of love, he would have cast aside this deranged one at that moment.  Yet something in those brown eyes called out to him, a plea; as though there was some unfinished work _somewhere _that had to be completed.  No, the man was determined not to die.

And for this, whoever the stranger was, he had gained Sesshoumaru's respect.

Aware of the risk he was taking, aware that this man could be lying, and could easily attack him at any moment, Sesshoumaru knelt down and began to lift the dead body from off the man.  As he did so, his thin lips pursed in curiosity, "You give grand promises.  I only hope that you can keep your word."

The man coughed slightly, blood rupturing from his lips.  He had attempted to laugh, and that had proved dangerous.

"Can you stand?" Sesshoumaru asked, looking at the sprawled figure beneath him.  Now that the dead body had been dealt with, Sesshoumaru admitted that he was surprised to find the man in the clothes of a traveler.  This was no solider at all.  He was but a bird captured in a cage that was not meant for him, and he, Sesshoumaru, had gone and opened the door.

The man attempted to get up, but only managed half way before demanding assistance from Sesshoumaru.

As he helped the man stumble along, Sesshoumaru sighed to himself.  Perhaps he was a man of war no longer.  No, he was sure that the time of his youth was over and done.  The blood that once so famously flowed from his sword had grown dry, and nearly down to a trickle, threatening to disappear for ever. 

Looking towards the man, Sesshoumaru realized for the first time that he was vaguely acquainted with the person's looks. Yes, it had not been but two days since last they had seen each other, standing atop that foggy mountainside.

It was this man that had taken Kagome away.

"I know you," Sesshoumaru replied curtly, stiffening slightly as he stopped walking, unsure if he should trust him. "It was you who came to take Kagome away, not but two days ago."

The man glanced at him, his face smeared in mud, his eyes giving away too many of the world's grievances.  A smile bloomed amid the wreckage of war, and he replied, "Indeed you do sir; I was wondering how long it would take you."

Sesshoumaru scowled and spat, "I meet many people throughout my life.  You obviously did not make much of an impact with me or I would have recognized you immediately."

Miroku chuckled, and continued to be guided by the bitter youkai lord, who was now quiet, his eyes troubled.

Finally, Sesshoumaru asked the question Miroku had been waiting for through this entire escapade, "But if you are here, then where is she?"

Miroku coughed slightly and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, "Lady Kagome, I presume? We separated on the mountain.  She is finding safety, but I find that duty and honor call me back to my lord's side."

"That is very honorable of you," Sesshoumaru nodded curtly, "If not foolish.  Yet you do realize that we are enemies.  I could easily kill you now."

Miroku stumbling slightly cursed and then chortled, "I do not think we are as great as enemies of you perceive."

Sesshoumaru clicked his tongue and spat, "Maybe so."

The two continued to hobble across the battlefield, over the fallen graves of men, armor and trampled weeds.  Yet, at last, the two reached Sesshoumaru's horses, and a servant attending to Miroku scuttled him away.

Sesshoumaru, his eyes stormy, called after, "What was your name again?"

"It is Miroku," the wind said, picking up the man's words as he collapsed onto a table.

It was not as though it was a common name, even in this day and age, yet both were aware of the weight that this title held.  Yet the image and the knowledge behind those three hiragana characters would not emerge.

Perhaps it was better this way, Sesshoumaru thought enigmatically, looking up into the sky, and finding that day had broken.

Perhaps war was meant for mysteries.

Finding that he liked this notion, he allowed his thoughts to drift high above to the clouds, to places much more comforting and filled with that everlasting blue.

****

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AN: So! There you have it! Chapter 31. Hopefully you guys liked it. Sorry it took so long to come out…^^;;

As usual, read, review, say "Yuu!"


	32. snake in the grass

AN: As of late, getting these chapters has become harder and harder to write. I don't know if it is the "get it over with NOW" mode kicking in, as it usually does when I reach the ends of a story. Maybe it is the "Ah, screw it" mentality. Or, maybe it is the "Goodness, this is hard…I don't know if I can do this…" attitude. Whatever it is, I am trying my best to over-ride all such emotions to make these last few chapters memorable and good.

_Fluffyscatdemon_: You will have to see about the pairing. I have not said it, and it won't be said until the very last chapter. You gotta wait. ;;

_Anime Redneck_: You'll find out, partially, in this chapter…

_Sissi_: (answered above)

_Deva_: You won't really find out what she whispered. But it is hinted, later on. Thanks for reminding me about that…;; I have so many things to keep track of!

_Sashlea_: Yes. Sort of. You'll see.

(and as always, thanks TaskinLude for being a wonderful beta and friend! :3)

Chapter 32

Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

Snake in the Grass

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The war had started the day before, but already it seemed like an eternity. A milk-white eternity; devoid of any color, any feeling—just that blankness that came with lack of emotion. The world was darker, even with the midday sun shining down upon all, revealing all. The earth seemed shaded and cold, even safely nestled besides the banks of a happily gurgling stream in the foothills. Amongst the waist high grasses the morning sun shone contentedly onto Sesshoumaru's backside, and adjusting his formal posture, he scooted into the shade of a giant camphor tree with its dark green leaves burned by the sun's rays of the deep summer. Perhaps, sitting in the subterranean shade, he wished to be in the gloom as well.

That was the only place war could live, in the darkest hearts of men. That was the only place war was allowed to live. Sesshoumaru knew this, having held such company for many long, troubled years.

Sesshoumaru, the lord of the western lands, sighed and closed his eyes slowly. He was tired, no, not even that. He was exhausted. He had not slept in forty-eight hours. Even with his youkai body, he could feel his concentration waning.

Besides being fatigued, things weren't going well. He felt as though he was being pulled back at every obstacle that he wished to face—his brother, Naraku, this bloody war in general: he wanted it over, done, complete, just something that one would read about in history books.

But hardly a minute could be spared now, so much needed to be done, and here he was, sitting on the side of a perfectly innocent brook, waiting for this mysterious man named Miroku to catch a fish so that they could have some lunch, if he dare call it that. It was more like breakfast to him.

'Miroku' looked up, his dark hair falling in front of his russet eyes, for; somewhere along the way the advisor had lost his hair-tie, which, he was beginning to find rather annoying. The sun was not hot, but uncomfortably warm, and unfortunately, there was no shade on his side of the small grassy creek.

It was a fairly clear day, although large grey-bottomed clouds sped hurriedly across the horizon, as though there was a hidden destination they wished to find. Some would have thought the storm to be over, the rain all gone and washed away—but those acquainted with the weather knew that this was not the case. These clouds were deceiving, yes, like the make-up of a Kabuki actor; one could not really see the true face of the person…

Perhaps the worst part still remained.

Sighing, Miroku shaded his eyes and glanced at the lord of the western lands. Now, upon seeing this famed youkai for the first time, he could truly see the resemblance between the two dog demons. Yes, it was evident, not only in the hair and eye-color, but in the general body and frame. These two were cut from the same cloth indeed, and it was the finest material.

Sesshoumaru had been the last person Miroku had expected to come upon in this great torrent of blood and sweat. But then again, he had never expected to be in this situation in the first place. After all, hadn't it been only this morning that he had parted from the group, traveling away with Sango? Hadn't he promised his wife that they would face everything together to ensure survival?

And what of it now, hm? Where had it all gone?

It had turned into shit, that was what it had done…and there was nothing that Miroku could do at the moment, there was no way he could find his wife among the wreck of warfare, there was no way. Fighting back a sigh, Miroku looked down into the quickly flowing waters of the brook and tried to discern if there were any fish about. Every now and then the stream caught the light of the sun and flashed, almost like a signal, into his eyes. When the two had first camped at this spot, there had been many feeding about the edges of the bank. But, it seemed, as soon as Miroku had constructed a make-shift fishing pole they all vanished, as though he was the plague.

Damn those smart fish.

Grumbling something underneath his breath about the lack of stupid animals in the world, Miroku adjusted his position considering that his bottom was beginning to get sore.

Sesshoumaru, looking calm, princely, and cool (as he often did) was staring at him now, this at least Miroku could recognize. He didn't want to be mad at the youkai; after all, he had saved him from dying out there in that god-forsaken battle field. But why did the youkai have to look so smug? Was it impossible for this creature to look disturbed or angry…or anything…?

Perhaps this was not the nature of the demon, Miroku thought oddly. After all, although the two brothers were of the same material they were not necessarily the same pattern. Sesshoumaru was a more subdue serious shade, while his brother, Inuyasha came in hues of red and gold, blue and green—bright, cheerful, brazen colors.

"Is something bothering you?"

He nearly jumped when he heard those words, and grasping his chest, he exclaimed, "Don't do that!"

"Not really, no." Miroku admitted with a delayed reaction bobbing about the fishing pole in the crystal clear mountain water.

The youkai did not seem very worried about scaring the living daylights out of him, but continued to sit with satisfaction amongst the high-growing grasses under the shade of the giant tree above him. The youkai was practically hidden in those tall stalks, their tips now gone to seed; it was after all, late summer, and soon the warm lingering days of autumn would be upon them all, and then the stark whiteness of winter.

Perhaps winter was the finest season of all; it was a season for planning, of solitude, of reflection…unlike spring and summer and autumn where there was always activity, never a moment's rest, always this constant churn of emotions and actions building and forming together until it almost became unbearable. Yes, Miroku decided, winter was a fine season, a fine season indeed…

Shifting his shoulders about moodily, Miroku thought that some conversation would do both of them much good. Maybe he could get a few things off his chest, and iron out some wrinkles in this whole conflict; then things would be…better, perhaps. After all, everything was so very confusing, and it would be simpler if there weren't so many mysteries. Mysteries only created confusion, and confusion only created panic.

Miroku wasn't quite sure where he came up with the notion, and perhaps it was foolish as well…but it seemed as though Sesshoumaru wished for this conflict to come to an end as soon as possible. Although every element in his body seemed against the fact that this ruthless warrior Sesshoumaru wished for this war to end—it seemed as though something about the youkai had changed. He no longer personified that killing blade he was known for, he did not seem as heartless and cruel as all the legends proclaimed: if anything he seemed emotionless, but…besides that, Miroku could see no hatred.

After all, would a hell-sent demon save him, a human, from the brinks of death?

Maybe this new 'tactic' would work; maybe he could pull something from the lips of Sesshoumaru, and find worthwhile information. Maybe waiting in the watery depths of both the youkai and the stream, he would find something, anything, anything that would help. "But, now that you mention it, I am rather upset."

The youkai made no reply, but instead seemed to be studying a very interesting blade of grass. It was a lovely green shade, yellowish, almost—new and sparkling, which was rare for a mid-August day… Miroku only deepened his scowl and heaved another heavy sigh. Well, it seemed there was to be no conversation.... Moving onto their lunch…or rather, their lack of lunch…

"I'm listening," a cool impersonal voice replied as it drifted across the waterway and towards Miroku. Sesshoumaru had not even moved, and was still studying that confounded piece of grass—but for a moment his eyes swiveled to Miroku's form, only long enough to acknowledge the advisor, before returning once again to the grass, and then, eventually the blue dappled sky over-head.

The advisor glanced up and then quickly looked down at his feet. He could tell he was being made a fool of, and Sesshoumaru did it with such grace that most people wouldn't have a clue.

_Hell if you're listening,_ Miroku thought silently to himself. He didn't know why he was upset, Sesshoumaru wasn't trying to be obnoxious, but somehow, Miroku found himself in a bad humor. Nothing had gone right at all. In fact nothing had gone right for the past few months. At first, he thought he had the strength to overcome, and there had even been happiness with Sango…but now…who the hell even knew anymore?

"I don't know what to do anymore," Miroku found himself saying unconsciously, even before the words had left his mouth. It was not like him to be so open, at least with his follies. Yes, he could talk about his victories easy enough…but his downfalls, ah, that was another matter…

Sesshoumaru said nothing, but only shifted his position so that his golden eyes were staring intently into the innocently burbling stream. He, it seemed, had a lot on his mind too. Then again, it was Sesshoumaru, the leader of those from the west—of course he was preoccupied. The two of them where in the middle of a war, even here, surrounded by the beauty of nature.

Miroku noticed the sapphire pendant that hung off his neck as it glimmered in the sunlight, but somehow, it didn't register.

"I'm sitting here with you, and it would be so easy to call you the enemy." He spat bitterly, his grip tightening on the fishing-rod.

"Yet I am not the enemy, no more than you are," Sesshoumaru replied coolly, not even bothering to looking up from the stream bed.

"Yes, well, it will be oh so easy to go and explain that to Inuyasha," Miroku responded sarcastically, setting aside the fishing pole and waiving his arms about, almost frantically. He really hadn't gotten enough sleep for the past couple of…months now. "Yes, I'll just walk up to Inuyasha, while he is in the middle of a bloody war, against you I might add, and say, 'Oh. Yes. You see, Sesshoumaru? Well, he isn't all that bad after all!'"

Sesshoumaru chuckled and added darkly, "This Sesshoumaru also saved you from death by suffocation, which seems rather unpleasant."

Miroku just cast him a scathing look before crossing his arms, though rather slowly at that, considering that his wound was still quite tender and delicate.

Sesshoumaru, his head still bent down towards the stream did not reply, but instead flexed his claws, as though he was about to attack. Miroku began to feel sweat form on the back of his neck…maybe it was better not to make a youkai angry after all, although a hanyou was bad enough.

Suddenly, there was a flash of silver and gold and cowering in fear, Miroku practically curled into a ball. But, when no pain came to his organs, and when he still felt his arm attached to his shoulder, he breathed a sigh of relief and opened his eyes, only to find that Sesshoumaru was holding two writhing fish in each hand.

"The fishing pole did not seem to be doing any use," he shrugged nonchalantly as he tossed the fish to Miroku. The advisor supposed that he was supposed to clean them, and diligently found his knife from one of the recesses of his pack.

The day was soon growing to be quite fair and it even made the two travelers fall into a false state of contentment and solitude…the birds' songs somehow seemed sweeter and softer away from civilization. The babbling of the brook played a melody that both the travelers knew, and the trees above danced in the gentle wind that seemed only created for that one purpose of ease.

It had taken Miroku some time to construct a fire, being that there was a severe lack of dry wood, considering that the whole hill had been practically flooded yesterday afternoon. Yet, in the end, he had found some tucked away in a hollow beneath a tree some quarter mile off in a nice elevated meadow. As the advisor had wandered off, he had half expected Sesshoumaru to have abandoned him upon his return and him being stuck, out in the wilderness without a clue on how to get to the Shikon no Tama shrine. In fact, he didn't really know where he was.

A sweat had begun to form on the back of his neck again, out there amongst the tall grass, and he had grown quite nervous indeed and had almost jogged back to the creek just to ensure that Sesshoumaru would still be there upon his return. He had only two days to get to the shrine, or else, and this Miroku knew, there would be more than just this war lost forever upon the delicacy of the red string of fate.

Yet to his utter amazement and perhaps joy, Sesshoumaru's figure still remained, calmly shaded beneath the great leaves of the camphor tree and Miroku found himself smiling. Perhaps Sesshoumaru was not as bad as all the rumors said. In fact, perhaps he was even less fearful. But then again, Miroku thought dubiously, there could have been other reasons for his suddenly mild nature. Often times, love did that to a person, and she was but two days away, not yet forgotten in his mind. Come next year, Sesshoumaru the feared ruler of the western lands, would strike again and his would deserve his name to be written in blood once more.

At the moment, Miroku was flabbergasted when he returned to their (dare he call it 'camp'?) only to find that Sesshoumaru was quite willingly asleep against the side of the accommodating tree. Miroku nearly wanted to start laughing aloud, but had to clamp his hand upon his mouth to stop the effort. It was only then that for the first time he saw the translucent quality to the youkai's skin and the deep dark and well-camouflaged circles beneath his eyes.

Concern did not flood through Miroku, nor anxiety, but more a nervous feeling. He had no connection to this youkai; in fact he hardly knew the soul. But, Miroku understood that if this youkai did not receive rest soon then he would become easy prey to the war, for so many other things seemed to battling for control within him.

Miroku eventually decided to leave sleeping youkai be, and settled down to start building a fire so that they could finally eat. They had been at this creek for some time now, and already it seemed past the midday hour.

By the time the fish was ready, Sesshoumaru had still not awoken and Miroku debated on what to do. On one hand, he could just leave the fish out in front of him, or he could wake him up, or…

"I am awake, you know," Sesshoumaru whispered slightly, only his lips moving, a slight frown tugging at them.

Miroku was startled, but did not let it show, and quickly replied, "Yes, I knew you were."

"Indeed?" the youkai quipped as he adjusted his posture and sat up, opening his golden eyes to give an omnipotent glare to the advisor.

The two ate their meal in silence, under the shade of the camphor tree; neither particularly enjoyed the fish, but it gave them strength which was all they were looking to find.

By the time that Miroku had finished his fish, the advisor felt as though he could finally discuss with Sesshoumaru the 'rub' of the matter. What he proposed to talk about was neither easy nor comfortable, but he could not let it go unsaid.

It was not in his nature.

As the two slowly walked towards their grazing horses, Miroku began hesitantly, "So, Sesshoumaru, what is your aim in this war? Are you still determined to get Inuyasha's sword?"

Sesshoumaru said nothing for a time, but instead looked up into the alluring blue sky with a deep expression of contemplation upon his delicate features. After a time, he replied slowly, as though he was still unsure of the answer, "I do not know what I am after."

Miroku came to a halt and nearly gasped, "Then you aren't after the sword anymore?"

Sesshoumaru, who has paused as well, glanced over his shoulder and sighed, "I don't know."

Miroku chose this time to smirk knowingly and retorted, "Hmm, Kagome has changed you, hasn't she?"

Sesshoumaru's features grew still and pensive and the advisor noticed as the youkai's clawed hand reached down for the hilt to his sword where he gripped the handle tentatively. Sesshoumaru's eyes, now a dark stormy auburn, gave away all his displeasure and Miroku realized that he had taken the conversation one step too far. Obviously, Lady Kagome was forbidden territory.

"Understand this, advisor to Inuyasha, just because I did not kill you does not mean I do not contemplate it." His eyes glinted, whether in anger or the affects of the sun Miroku did not know, and he continued bitterly, "The offer of your blood is still tempting, I do not deny this. But, whether through change of heart or temperament, I want this war to end as soon as possible." He paused, and licked his thin pink lips tentatively and finished resentfully, "But if you so much as mention any correlation between Lady Kagome and I again, understand this fool, I will have your tongue."

Miroku gulped, but still found himself grinning, despite the extremely real threat that Sesshoumaru had just made exceedingly clear. So, it seemed as though he had been right in the first place—it had been Kagome all along who had brought this change upon the lord. But, perhaps more so than that, it may have been the combination of maturity and love that gave him reason to end this long and bloody warfare.

"I understand your words exactly," Miroku nodded sternly, as he continued to walk towards their horses at the top of a sloping hill, the grasses billowing like a sea and crashing against their legs.

Sesshoumaru did not leave his spot at first, but watched in condescension and Miroku continued his way up the hill.

_Whether or not it was Kagome, or just circumstances beyond my control, my decision remains unwavering—this war needs to come to a finish as soon as possible, and the only way to do so is to kill the master of ceremonies, Naraku…_

By the time the two reached the horses, Miroku had fairly recovered from that warning, and had decided to attempt to talk to the proud demon lord again. Before they reached their destination—the shrine of the Shikon no Tama, Miroku wanted to have this youkai's word that upon meeting Inuyasha in war, the youkai would not kill his hanyou half brother. To defeat Naraku, the snake that he was, there had to be utter stillness until the attack was eminent.

The horses trotted amiably back to the road some half mile away, and taking this time, Miroku began again, "I'm sorry if I offended you back there."

Sesshoumaru said nothing and only looked straight ahead. It didn't even appear as though he was listening.

"I was wondering Sesshoumaru, what do you know of this warlord named Naraku?"

Sesshoumaru immediately swiveled his head and his eyes held an emotion that Miroku could not quite read. It was a mixture of hatred, indifference, and fear. Yet, in seemed almost impossible that Sesshoumaru could be afraid of anything—no, Miroku decided, it must have been the affects of the dappled lighting that gave his golden eyes that emotion.

The advisor's face became serious as well, and he questioned softly, so softly that it could hardly be heard above the trotting of the horses, "I take it that you know of this person then?"

Sesshoumaru's eyes returned straight forward and his lips seemed sealed as though he refused to answer neither a yes or no.

Miroku grimaced. The lord of the western lands had been famed for being quite stoic and this only proved those rumors true. This now required him to dig deeper until he got his desired answer. Miroku knew well and good that this lord had claimed an alliance with the dark warlord; it had been a rumor spreading about the countryside for quite a few months. In addition, Sango had also revealed this information to him in private during one of their brief periods of rest.

"Come, come now, Sesshoumaru. Whether or not you may be in an alliance with him makes no difference to me whatsoever."

Sesshoumaru quickened the speed of his mare and Miroku chuckled to himself. This man was as silent as a clam.

The day was steadily growing overcast. The storm was moving quickly and successfully over the country once again and by tomorrow the world would be smeared with at least a few centimeters of water. There would be flooding to be sure. It was most unfortunate that the rain should return on the third day, Miroku admitted darkly. The third day to this war would be the most critical. Come tomorrow, Miroku would be able to reach the shrine of the Shikon no Tama, and to once again be at Sango's side.

Their separation had not been planned; in fact they had never premeditated on parting. Yet, the world had a way of turning upside in an instant. It was strange how now, under this beautiful sky, the nature of things seemed so beautiful and tranquil, while at other times there was blood and tears.

The two of them had managed to steal a pair of horses that they found grazing by the side of the road—the two men, officers it seemed, were down by the banks of the river cleaning out their clothes. By the time the two dolts had realized the horses were stolen they were about a quarter-mile off and out of danger, at least, this was what they presumed.

However the road had been blocked by a large pulsating mass of bodies. The war had erupted yet again amongst the calm and golden-rimmed reality. The two had fled into the woods, hoping to avoid the clash, but some how they had no such luck. Miroku's horse had misjudged a jump and had plunged into the ground, twisting its leg. If that had not been worse, a muted blast of a cannon had echoed through the still forest and before Miroku could even grab the reigns, his horse had taken off as it limped into the wilds.

It was only Sango, him, and the remaining horse.

Still, there was still hope. The sun had only risen and a long day lay before them. Miroku mounted his wife's horse and the two of them sped off down the road, the echo of cannons and bone chilling screams blazing on their heels as though the past and death were slowly catching up to them, one step at a time.

The two had ridden for some hours by then, making their way slowly, ever slowly, to the shrine of the Shikon no Tama, where, somehow, Miroku hoped that he would meet Inuyasha and be able to resolve this whole conflict. He had to ensure that Inuyasha did nothing brazen, especially regarding Naraku. Inuyasha was naturally unashamed however…

"Naraku is my ally, yes."

Sesshoumaru was speaking quietly, now, his voice cold and detached as it often was—but he looked dangerous, as though at any moment he might lash out against the world, or maybe just Miroku.

"But I plan that by the end of this war he shall be my only enemy."

Miroku, in all earnest, stated, "I thought Inuyasha was your enemy."

The silver-haired lord scoffed, "Inuyasha is hardly my enemy more so than you are. I care for neither. Whatever that foolish hanyou does is none of my concern—unless it affects the people of my land."

Miroku, put off, questioned, "But what of his sword? What of you murdering—,"

Sesshoumaru glanced at him now and spat, "Who have I murdered?" He was angry and irritable, as though Miroku had turned into a pesky fly.

"Some lover of Inuyasha a long time ago," Miroku stated, wondering why he had to repeat this fact, "This is why Inuyasha goes to war with you. Didn't you know?"

The two had reached the road, finally, and the crunch of gravel beneath their feet nearly drowned out any form of communication, yet, Miroku managed to catch, only distantly…

"I have killed no human woman in my lifetime. Youkai, yes, but never a female human. I do not sink as low as that."

The world stopped. The sky, the clouds, the trees, the leaves—all seemed still to the ears of Miroku. Blinking in surprise, he questioned seriously, as solemn as the innocent deaths of this war, "And do you swear upon that, Sesshoumaru?"

Sesshoumaru, perhaps not realizing the full impact of his words replied quite off-handedly, "If swearing is what it takes to make you believe me, than I do so."

Off in the distance, a slow thin curl of smoke rose in the horizon, a division between this world and the next, between reality and imagination, a border, Miroku thought sadly, that Inuyasha had to cross before these tragic affairs would finally come to a close. He did not know how it happened, or who was in charge of the mischief, but the advisor had a feeling in the pit of his stomach…it could be none other than that sly underhanded snake. The warlord known as Naraku…

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The inky pine trees had grown sparse towards the bank of the rushing mountain stream. The dirt, red and speckled with flooded grass, glinted in the light of the midday. Clouds were hanging low over the mountains, and it was possible, or so it seemed, to brush their dark bottoms with finger tips.

The group of travelers had received their horses with only a small amount of trouble from the old hermit who lived at the summit. Kagome had to admit that she had been pleasantly surprised with Kouga's unpolished, if not successful, negotiation skills. The company had only been delayed a half an hour, enough time to laden the horses, quickly eat something substantial, and, most importantly, rest their tired feet.

Kagome, glad she was finally upon a horse, allowed her posture to lax and silently exhaled a deep sigh. She would be the last to admit she was physically exhausted—she could not allow the group to slow because of her. The success of their mission depended on their timely retreat.

Looking up into the gloriously blue sky, Kagome noticed that Kouga's grey speckled mare had now pulled up along side of her where the trail had widened.

Glancing towards him, Kagome smiled softly. Although Kouga wasn't the most delicate person, she admitted now that she had been wrong in her previous judgment. There had been no insult intended in his words or actions. Looking back at yesterday and the day before, it only seemed a steady blur of rain and emotions all flooded precariously about her.

She fingered her worn leather reigns nervously, and then, glancing up at the leader of the wolf-clan she found that he was staring at her with a look of fascination, much like he had been doing earlier.

Perhaps he hadn't much contact with females, especially human females.

The wind almost carried her words from out her mouth, but she managed earnestly, "I'm sorry."

Kouga reacted almost immediately, a small sly grin erupting from his features, and he coughed slightly and questioned, "Oh? Are you now?"

Deciding (but only temporarily) to not let her temper flare, she coughed, annoyed, and replied, "Yes. I was upset and I was treating you unfairly."

Kouga continued to smirk, but said nothing. Kagome did not notice the strange gleam which had over-taken his eyes; she was too interested in looking at the beautiful landscape about them.

From this summit they were able to see three hundred and sixty degrees about. They were walking at the very tops of these mountains, a trail that ran parallel to the range and for a mile or so, to the river, where, they would eventually turn down and begin their ascent. Yet, up amid the inky-pines, the soft-rimmed clouds, and the camellia-scented day, she felt truly at peace. In the wisteria-blossomed valleys, which now surrounded her on either side, if war should be happening she was blissfully unaware. This high, dancing with the clouds, it was impossible to tell of the wreckage and deceit of men…that was, if she never inspected closely.

The wind was cool and cut through her clothing; through her flesh and straight to her soul where it cooled her agitated nerves. The clouds billowing by, growing more numerous with each passing hour, were calming in their movements, to her, singing a lullaby. The larks and sparrows chirped softly in the background, and the steady movements of the horse beneath her began to lull her into the world of soft lavender fantasy…

Before she knew it, she had fallen, most contentedly asleep…

It only took Kouga a few moments to notice her state, and quickly he jumped off his horse and walked alongside Kagome's beast before pausing for half a moment. His dark eyes flashed, and he smiled softly. The next minute he found his weathered hands wrapped about Kagome's slim waist as he led the horse down the mountain side.

Gods, if this is happiness, Kouga thought ruefully gazing into the horizon, may it never end…

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Kagome awoke to the sounds of whispers and something warm pressed against one half of her body. Looking up, she found that it was perhaps two hours past midday. Much to her surprise, she found that she was not on the horse, but instead resting on a shaded part of a particularly steep hill. The long damp grasses was billowing about her form, and looking through the haze of green, Kagome found Kouga staring at her, his finger pressed tightly to her lips.

"What's happening?" she whispered, moving her body slightly, so that she could more comfortably be seated.

Kouga glanced up the slope of the hill, his eyes reflecting the sea of endless green. Finally, he replied, his voice harsh and bitter, "There's an approaching army down there, taking the back road."

More awake now, by his words more so than the cold air, she whispered hurriedly, "But who's? Inuyasha's? Se…Sesshoumaru's?"

Kouga shook his head and leaned over on his side to find his brass viewfinder, much worn with age and care. He held it tightly in his calloused hands before finally, and with great regret, passing it into Kagome's realm.

"See for yourself, Lady." He grumbled, as he began to scoot his way up the ascent to the top of the mound.

Kagome paused for a minute and clenched the metal to her chest. Her eyes were wide in fury and fear. If not Inuyasha or Sesshoumaru, then, that left only one other person…a person she had wished to avoid at all costs, for with him, came the scent of death and war, more deadly and treacherous than could ever be imagined…

Slowly, she grasped at the wet earth, finding its ways under her fingertips, but, resolutely, she continued up. It took her only a few minutes, but when she reached the crest her breath was caught in her throat. Never before had she witnessed such a beautifully heartbreaking scene…

Describing it would do no justice, but it can only be attempted. The gently rolling mounds of the foothills slowly, in a trance, it seemed, from being blown by the storm's breeze made it a scene of great motion and infinite stillness. The yellow-green forms tapered down gently into the warm colors of the meadows and filled with late flowering red and gold flowers. Yet, from high atop the hill, all was small, a blur, just a reflection of a memory.

And then, so dense, so thick…like a river, a form moved. It at first took a moment for Kagome to realize that the snake-like object was actually moving. Extending the spy-glass, Kagome gasped when she found that it was people who made up this purple-blue shape.

"B-But it is humongous! Look at there numbers! There is no chance for…" She stopped herself, and forced her body to remain calm. She had to be composed in situations such as these.

With quivering fingers, she held the spy-glass as steadily as she could manage and searched for the family crest. Her heart sank with knowing when she saw the black-painted narcissus…the crest of the warlord Naraku. She, at least, knew this much…

"Where are they going?" Kagome snapped up suddenly, closing the spyglass and making her way down to the base of the steep hill.

Kouga, following her, sighed and admitted, "There is only one place they could be heading…"

"Which is?" Kagome urged, returning the instrument to Kouga and quickly making their way to the horses, which she had spotted earlier, grazing at the edge of the dense forest.

"If they plan to attack Inuyasha, they wouldn't make it in time," Kouga explained after a moment, seeing something in Kagome's eyes which made him understand that she would be able to adjust to the information which came next. "This means, Kagome, that this army is meant to attack Sesshoumaru…"

Kagome said nothing, but only listened, her blue eyes hard and stony.

"…Most likely, they will take the Okoni Pass, meaning they will be there by tomorrow morn. My guess is that they plan to attack at dawn."

"I see," Kagome replied stiffly, walking up to her own cream-colored horse and checking the saddle and provisions. She seemed completely preoccupied, as though all her thoughts and emotions had drifted somewhere else, far, far away into a place even Kouga couldn't surmise.

The other members of the band, sitting and eating their provisions were beginning to watch her with interest. To them, it seemed that she was going to—but, no, that was impossible.

"What are you doing now?" Kouga sighed, ambling his way through the waist high grass to her side.

The lady frowned but said nothing. Her cheeks were flushed and her hands still quavered like a dry leaf in the breeze.

A minute later, she was atop the horse, her hair billowing in the breeze. She appeared as though she was ridding into battle, the great wind god, ready to protect Japan against foreign invaders—whether it be the Mongols as in legend or Naraku…

"What the hell are you doing?" Kouga asked again, although a little louder and more peeved this time. His fangs were showing and he was beginning to loose his 'dignified' control. His cheeks were becoming as stained with pink, not a good sign, especially when it came to the leader.

Kagome, spoke for the first time, and sighed bitterly, "What does it look like I am doing, Kouga?"

The clan looked up and blinked. The last time anyone had spoken to Kouga like that…well, it had been fatal.

"What?" the wolf-leader hissed, grabbing the reigns from Kagome's loose grip, his eyes squinted into slits of indignation, "What did you say?"

"I said, Kouga, what does it look like I am doing? I'm going to go warn the men at Sesshoumaru's fortress. If I don't warn them, who will? It will be a massacre, and to know I could have stopped it—I could not live with that, I could not live with myself!" She explained resentfully, snatching the worn reigns back from Kouga, so quickly that he hadn't time to react. "Either, you let me go on my own free will, alone" she continued, nudging the horse forward, her blue eyes flaring in indignation, "—or you follow. I don't care what you do. If I die, so be it—at least I know I will have made some impact on this war…! At least I will know that I made a difference—if only for having hope."

With that, she kicked the horse hard on its side and sped off in a flourish of grass and wind, faster than the wind-god itself, or perhaps she was guided by its spirit…yet her horse flew more rapidly than ever imagined. Maybe its destiny was hinted on the wings, just like this war, just like this storm, just like everything…

Kouga made no attempt to chase her. He knew that girl was a bird—she did not do well in small spaces, she did not do well as a mannequin. She had a heart, she was alive, and she made everyone knew it. But, this he supposed ruefully, was part of her charm.

Suppressing a sigh, Kouga grinned and called back, "Alright, let's load up guys. We don't want to lose the girl to the wolves."

The group just laughed and shook their heads.

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AN: collapses desperately into her bed

My GOD, that was the most tiring chapter…don't ask me why, I haven't a clue. I attribute it to the fact that, well, I haven't been Shadows inspired as of late. Also, these chapters are becoming more blurry because the war was the hardest part for me to write, not only because I can't write battle scenes—but I only have certain scenes that I know what I want, for example the final showdown scene, the ending scene…erm….and that is about it. So, with these chapters, I basically have to think of bridging all the plot holes, filling up the holes, and making sure they come across as interesting…

Estimated remaining chapters: 3-4 (subject to change)

As usual, visit my website, which can be accessed at my author page at ff.net . Same thing with my e-mail. For some reason, this computer does not like uploading those links. Stupid people. ;;

As usual, if there are any things I over looked, spelling/grammar wise, lemme know so I can fix them. Sankyuu. :D

And LOOK! I have Sesshoumaru for all you Sesshoumaru fans! 

I'm also having a ball with Kouga…he is so much fun to write…

Read! Review! Say…Miroku! (Goodness, I can't believe I hadn't thought of that one earlier…!)

NOTICE: Unless posted otherwise, if you do not get a chapter by…June 20th, do not expect one for quite some time. On the 21st I head to LA and from there I shall be leaving for Japan on the 23rd. I guess you could say I am doing research.


	33. fish and nets

Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

Chapter 33

Fish and Nets

1.) In Nagoya there is the famous sport of fishing with birds. Fisherman put out lanterns and the fish are attracted to the light. They have underwater diving birds that catch the fish but do not eat them because there are metal around their necks which force them to throw it up.

2.) Ramen-ya: just add 'ya' to anything and that makes it a shop. Hon-ya. Sushi-ya. Hana-ya. (bookstore, sushi shop, flower shop)

3.) Ojiisan: old man

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It was one of those types of days that reeked of dreariness. It was filled to the brim with a grey color casting the world into an unattractive hue. There were no shadows, there were no birds in the trees, there were no drops falling from the sky—it was a plain wash of grey, so endless that it stretched onto eternity. At least, Sesshoumaru thought, it ought to have. What good was such dreary weather as this if it did not serve a purpose? If it was going to be grey—the whole world ought to have been in such a state.

The horse moved gently beneath him, and Sesshoumaru smirked at his own thoughts. He wished for change—when not only _two days_ ago he had been praying to the Gods that the confounded rain would cease. Then, this morning it had been absolutely glorious with those large billowing clouds swimming by overhead and the yellowing grass breaking against his legs like waves. Yet, by the afternoon the only reminder of the once dramatic and beautiful state was this slate of dulled blue.

"Damnable weather," Miroku commented on his own horse, as he brought out from some hidden recesses of his cloak a small bottle of sake and sipped on it gingerly, "The heat sort of wipes all the emotion out of you."

Sesshoumaru spared a glance to his wounded companion, shrugged and admitted, "In war, having no emotions is desirable."

Miroku sipped his sake again, and added seriously, so seriously that the silver-haired lord was somewhat startled. It seemed very out of character for this monk and advisor to wear the tragic Noh mask so perfectly.

"I do not admit to this war. To me it is nothing more than a shift of powers—something that should have happened quite some time ago."

Perhaps the monk was right. Perhaps this war wasn't even justifiable—but then again, was any war? Yet, he knew what his companion was getting at: this war, if it could be called that, went against every moral bone (if any should exist) in his body. It was a mockery, a mockery that was bringing down the whole country with the passing fashion of the nobles…

"It will soon be over," Sesshoumaru stated, more of a demand than a comment. He was anxious to return to his home, to what was familiar to him—even with the emptiness that would greet him there; he was prepared for that. If he would be forced to live out the rest of his days in that great house, books and scrolls his only company—then so be it.

The time of bloodshed was over in his life—the moon was beginning a new phase and a most anticipated one at that.

"In any case," Miroku began again, offering the sake to Sesshoumaru, "I am beginning to recognize these woods—we should be at the shrine of the Shikon no Tama in no time."

The youkai-lord surprised even him by taking the sake and inhaling a long draft. The sake, startlingly, was quite a good blend, with a comforting taste that caused his throat to burn warmly. Taking one last sip, Sesshoumaru admitted, feeling his entire body begin to glow with the alcohol, "It has been quite some time since I have had Sake as good as this. Where was it purchased?"

Once this war was over, he would go buy out the whole stock from wherever it was created—yes, that was something to look forward to: getting absolutely drunk. It had been years since he had allowed that temporary indulgence.

But when Miroku responded, Sesshoumaru was caught rather-off guard.

"I make it myself." The monk admitted casually, grabbing two apples from an over-hanging tree and tossing one of them to Sesshoumaru, where, it landed quite comfortably in his lap.

"Indeed?" The silver-haired lord questioned arduously, picking up the apple and taking a small bite out of its sweet skin.

"Yep," Miroku continued on, "Just one of those things I have picked up with all my years of traipsing about the countryside with Inuyasha. Yes, I…"

But his words died, and he slowed down his horse to a steady trot. His eyes were wide in amazement, and a piece of apple hung suspended out of his mouth.

"My, that is the biggest, darkest cloud I have seen in quite some time…" He whispered, awestruck.

Sesshoumaru, glancing from Miroku and following his gaze, subconsciously gulped. Yes. That _was _the biggest cloud he had ever seen and the darkest as well. It hung over the approaching valley, its bottom so heavily bore with water that it was black. There wasn't a trace of white in the whole form—it was only created of the darkest of colors. Long wisps hung from its bottom—from a distance, beautiful and quiet…but no, those forms were heavy trenches of rain that now snaked through the sun-baked earth and rain engorged the rural countryside. The hills were obstructed by this monstrosity, and sighing, Sesshoumaru realized that the two of them were heading directly into this dragon's den, right into the gates of hell…where, the damnable shrine laid…the shrine of the Shikon no Tama…

Casting a hurried glance at Miroku, Sesshoumaru stirred his horse that had stopped walking some minutes ago.

"We must continue—nature and its forces do not bow to the likes of man…"

And once again, the two rode through the blue, only now hinted with the shadow from the rain that would seal more men's and youkai's fate than first believed.

---------------

There was something cool. This was all he knew; the coolness. He wished to be warm and unbeknownst to him he found that he was grimacing. The coolness did not go away, in fact, as he began to think about it the sensation seemed to be growing more pronounced.

It addition to the temperature it was dark. A deadly black. It surrounded him—and it would have seemed a comforting darkness had he been warm. Yet now, surrounded in this chill, he suddenly wished for the light. Perhaps, _perhaps_, where there was light there was warmth.

This idea appealed to him.

He didn't know where he was. He could hear nothing. Not even his own heartbeat. It was utter silence. But, Inuyasha knew he _had _to open his eyes. There could be no other way to free himself from this solitude.

And so, opened his eyes he did. The action came much more natural and without pain than he had first imagined—and almost immediately he was blinded.

He was not yet able to form words, but if he had that capability, he would have sworn. He could not move his body, and so, once again, there he was in this dark coolness.

Yet, in that brief glimpse of sunlight it seemed as though the world had once again slammed into him—there were sounds, sights, (if he had the ability to see them) and smells...

Inhaling a shuddering breath, Inuyasha steadied his breathing. He didn't know what had happened, but obviously it hadn't been good. The last thing he remembered was being out on a deserted rice field…and then pain…and then…_crimson. _

Subconsciously, he gulped. _It _had happened, hadn't it? He had been driven to the edge, hadn't he?

And the scent of dried blood surrounding his frame wasn't helping his suspicions much.

The hanyou-lord opened his eyes again, and this time, with every possible effort, he concentrated on the muscles in his arm, and with much labor, caused it to move—shading his eyes from the bright, if not _warm _light. It was a butter-cup colored light of early autumn—a color created by the innocence of spring, the laziness of summer and solitude of winter.

His hand now shaded his face, and for the first time, he noticed the gentle burble of water—and then, almost instantly, he realized the reason behind the cold sensation: the fact was that he was half submerged in a mountain-side brook, filled with icy waters from higher altitudes.

And yet, he could not move. Not quite yet. He had to concentrate, to think of what was yet to come. What was the purpose in moving when you had nowhere to go? Yes. If he left this cool-shaded-watery spot, what would happen to him? Would he truly fly black into that bloodstained world where only wreck awaited for his demise?

Of course, he felt that he shouldn't. To flee was the _logical _thing to do; however, he had a reputation to uphold. A reputation made up of brazen attitude and clear disrespect for the rules. The rules would have mandated him to 'arise victorious' when the opportunity presented itself. And here he was. Floating in it.

_But why,' _he questioned to himself in earnest, noticing the dried blood on his arm, '_would I return to that? What does war hold for me? ' _

Yes. How easy it would be. A dog running with his tale in-between his legs. But what did it matter—what did _all of this _matter when Kikyou could be so easily acquired. A happy life with her was all that he had wished for—and oh, how it shone above the horizon.

His happiness was above the sky. His happiness was above the clouds.

So close now in this brook of heaven.

_Damn it all,' _Inuyasha scowled, moving body about for the first time and studying his surroundings. He appeared to be in a small meadow. Strangely, a horse seemed to be grazing by a tree some twenty yards away. _Odd, _the lord thought absently to himself, not yet noticing the abnormally shaped mounds that were splattered, like paint on a canvas, throughout the innocent grasses.

_So be it. _Inuyasha decided firmly, having subconsciously made up his decision. The fact remained however, no matter how disgusting and unpleasant this resolution had become; there _was _a war. Lives were at stake—lives of his kinsman. He could not be as immature to throw those lives away for love. Yes, he may have been foolhardy, but he was not a coward.

Be it love or honor, Inuyasha had reached a conclusion…whether it was the end of the chapter, or his book, well, that remained to be seen.

The crimson clad-lord hovered in the swollen-brown waters of the creek for a moment longer, noticing as a large fat red dragon-fly zoomed over purple corn-flowers that had bloomed late out amongst the grasses. The dragon-fly was a metallic red, his eyes glowing a deep green, and even Inuyasha could feel that small creature's penetrating gaze.

Yet eventually the hanyou, with much effort, pulled himself onto the damp and yellowed-grasses of early autumn out of the cold waters of the raging brook. It was a warm scent and sensation, laying, no, sprawled out amongst those dying soldiers of summer, their posture only slightly bent by the great gusts of wind.

_Don't worry too much, _Inuyasha thought lazily, his silver-color hair catching the light and entrancing him; _winter will come soon and put you and the cornflowers out of your misery._

His eyes fell to a particularly fine specimen of a corn-flower, primly aloft some foot away. The edges of the blue petals were faintly lighter than the center, making it appear as though it was glowing—a firefly in the dusk.

Blue.

Blue…

Kagome had blue eyes. He remembered that especially. How they caught the light when she was happy, how her tears sparkled like diamonds in the after-noon light. He remembered those strange quirky moments with that girl—their fights, their bickering, their moments of peace. Looking back on those moments, he realized how much he had come to treasure them.

But those moments were a dark deep treasure that had to be hidden deep inside his heart of hearts. There could be no truth revealed as far as he felt about that blue-eyed creature.

She was dead in his eyes.

Reaching out, Inuyasha snatched the blue-flower and ripped it from the ground.

_There, _Inuyasha sighed, _it's done._

It was a pity though…the roots to that flower still remained deep inside of the ground, even though the flower itself would soon die.

---------------

The day had been hot. Humid. Most days in summer seemed to be this way. Great swelling clouds formed in the distance. On the female species of pine tree, small, green cones were being formed. Tall overgrown grasses gently swayed over the mountain path. The grey of dusk had fallen, and in the distance the small strangled cry of a bird perched high in some tree's branches sang.

Everywhere was the gentle hum of cicadas—at times as soft as a lullaby, others as loud as the boom of black thunder or summer fireworks over the bay.

But Kagome heard none of this. She saw none of this. The pink flowers blooming beneath the overgrown grass went unnoticed. The evening chant from the hillside monastery was just an idea.

All she saw was the path ahead. That was all she allowed herself to see. The path: brown and coarse, old and precarious.

The single thing she needed to know was where it led. And with that destination in mind, she made her way through the dense foliage and underbrush of which the hillsides were known for.

"Kagome," a voice that now seemed foreign to her called, "Don't you think this has gone on long enough?"

She did not reply, but instead urged her already exhausted horse onward.

The voice continued, "You'll run the thing ragged, you know."

Once again, she did not reply, nor did she face the leader of the wolf-clan. Whether he was right or not didn't really matter at this point of time. All that mattered was to warn Sesshoumaru and his men. Things could not continue this way.

"Listen," Kouga continued, a bit more harshly as he pulled his horse up beside her own, despite the narrowness of the path, "It's not as though I am against this little escapade or anything like that. Sesshoumaru has the right to be warned of an attack."

He paused for a moment as he narrowly missed on overhanging branch.

"It's just that—like I said, if you continue this mad race, it'll only make things last longer. I doubt if you would reach Sesshoumaru's fortress in time, what with the pace that you're going."

Kagome's eyes strayed from the road.

"What do you mean?"

"What do you mean, 'What do you mean?'" the youkai snapped annoyed as he spat out a bug that had accidentally flown into his mouth, "Look at the state of your horse! It's already on its legs! If you give it a rest and walk it the rest of the way, we'll get there by dawn."

"Dawn!?" Kagome shouted, angrily slapping her wild hair aside.

Kouga finally decided to put gentilities to an end and angrily reached over and grabbed the worn reigns from her grip. For a moment Kagome saw a flash of lightening from within the dark depths of his eyes. She saw how powerful the youkai really was.

But it was only a flash.

A moment or maybe even a half-moment had passed. The next thing she knew, she felt the horse rear to a halt and her body fall back into nothingness. In that moment, she saw the golden light flash between the leaves overhead. She heard the distant cry of birds and the gentle murmuring of a nearby brook.

Kouga saw that moment as well. Perhaps not the leaves or birds or brook—instead he saw the girl he wanted to protect float through the air—almost as though she was a tanuki or kitsune, for truly only a being as magical as that could look so lovely as they dangled precariously on the edge of misfortune and chance.

Had Kouga had time to think, he would have questioned his motives and himself. But there was no time. And so, he leapt, and the next moment he felt the dull pain as he hit the ground.

The next words he heard were, "You…"

And opening his eyes he scowled, "Now look at the mess we're in. And ....," he continued on, finding that if he talked he could ignore the tree root that was poking his back painfully, "Had you not been so fool-hardy and hot-headed things might not have turned out this way."

"Me? Hot-headed? Fool-hardy? Since when has being just and—."

"—Listen, I don't want to hear any of your excuses. Sesshoumaru entrusted you to Miroku, and Miroku entrusted you to me. Don't you have any pity for the injured?"

"You're hurt?!" Kagome gasped, suddenly feeling very guilty, but also realizing two very important things: number one, he had just jumped from his horse to save her, and number two she was laying on top of him. A blush grew on her cheeks, but Kouga did not seem to notice. Quite the contrary he was trying to sit up.

As he managed to become more upright he wrapped an arm about her shoulder. For support, or so she presumed. She could feel his warmth pressed against her body and the blush deepened.

"It doesn't matter if I'm hurt. I'll recover," he continued, leaning against the tree now, "What matters is that both our horses need some rest, food, and water, as do we. The boys will catch up soon, I imagine."

There was a crack in the bushes.

Kagome did not say anything and was trying to not look Kouga in the eye, although he seemed quite content to do so.

"Will we make it there in time?"

Kouga, finally catching her glance replied, quite seriously, "I give you my word Kagome. Now, why don't you go to the stream over there and water the horses. Just make sure you don't over drink 'em, y'hear?"

A few seconds passed, until Kagome pulled herself from any such thoughts, stood up, and made her way towards the horses and began to walk through the long fingered grasses to the sparklingly innocent brook. Absentmindedly she turned and stared at the gold clouds, lined with grey. Or, perhaps they were grey clouds lined in gold. She did not know.

Meanwhile, back on the path, Kouga turned towards the bushes and sighed annoyed, "Have fun there boys? Enjoy the show?"

A few faces of his fellow kinsman popped out of the bushes, their eyes alit with tears, "T-That was so beautiful boss!"

Kouga just grumbled something to himself about half-wits and went off to go to the bathroom by a tree.

---------------

Night had now come in its graceful method. Like a geisha sitting down, her warm embrace was by one's side before you knew it. And indeed the night was a warm one, filled with the gentle hum of cicadas and the smoky dreams that accompany the darkness that the two riders had become so accustomed to.

In Nagoya the boats along the river would be lighted by the lanterns, the unknowing fish would be drawn to the warm rays, ignorant of the bird that flew overhead.

"Perhaps we are like fish," Miroku sighed absently, wishing that it wasn't so _damn _dark and that the moon would reappear from behind the scattered clouds.

"Fish have gills. And cannot blink. I do not see any similarities," Sesshoumaru pointed out, his own response surprising himself. Normally he would not even grunt at such a comment. But he had actually acknowledged the fool's idiotic idea. Maybe he was like a fish—maybe he did have a small brain.

"That's not what I meant…if you want I could compare us to moths. But in either case, consider this: perhaps we are moving towards a light. At this moment there is relatively not a care in the world—,"

"Relatively."

"Yes, relatively." Miroku insisted, "But when we get to the shrine, will we be burned? Singed? Boiled? Eaten alive?"

"Only time will tell if we are delicious fish." Sesshoumaru smirked, looking up at the sky that was draped with clouds, "And, if time does not tell…"

He left the matter unsaid.

The two rode on in silence for the rest of the journey. It was dawn when they reached the town where the famed shrine was located in the surrounding hills now flecked with the beginnings of autumn. The grey matted village however was mostly deserted and only an old man with his abacus remained, idly configuring numbers on a stool, situated outside a rust-colored ramen-ya.

The man's face was as intricate and as simple as cracks in dried ground. It gave everything away and yet nothing. Even his eyes, only beads of blackness were both basic and complex. Yes, this man was a perfect stereotype of a weathered farmer—one that had seen all too many failures and all too few successes.

"Excuse me, Ojiisan," Miroku began, leaning over the side of his horse, "Where have all the town folks gone?"

Sesshoumaru, leaving it to the better suited to be friendly, slowly rode his mare onward, glimpsing bits of green from rice fields, glinting eggplants left on the vine, idle doors open to the world. Obviously circumstances were considered grave if families should abandon their worldly goods to the likes of anyone.

The world was silent here in the blue light before the grey of dawn. It was comforting this moment. This time. What, after the dark night that had been too warm and too intimate with his mind.

"The town folk?" The old man repeated, sounding slightly confused, licking his chapped lips. Maybe, Miroku supposed, the man was senile.

"Yes. Has there been a battle...or..?"

The man broke into a fit of broken laughter, his face old and wrinkled like fishcakes, giggling with the vibration, "Oh, they all left for the hills or some such thing. Call it a holiday or vacation if you will."

"But what of the rice? The crops? Who will tend to such things?"

"Oh, they look after themselves for a week—and, if they don't, youkai or some animal will get to them first. Although sometimes I take my liberties. The Fujimoto's cucumbers and onions are beginning to ripen nicely—I'll just tell 'em a fox got to 'em or something. Always do!" The man chuckled, wiping some snot from his long and crooked nose (that appeared to have been broken several times over his lifetime).

Miroku's frown deepened, "But what if a typhoon should happen?"

"Then it does. This vacation of theirs is not by their own choice, you know. Still, I don't mind piggin' out for a week or two…"

"What do you mean?"

"Some go to the sea, others to the mountains, or distant relatives. None want to go, 'specially during this time of the year—but they have no choice. Until those two brothers make amends, the town folk would rather be far away then risk all the things that accompany war—besides the killing, if you know what I mean." The man's eyebrows rose suggestively as he eyed the direction in which Sesshoumaru had disappeared. There was a flash in the black beady eyes. He was connecting the dots. One by one by one.

Miroku, glancing towards Sesshoumaru, aware that even though the youkai didn't appear to be listening, in actuality his ears were as fine-tuned as a koto. Sometimes the youkai was _so _predictable. Sesshoumaru appeared to be studying the rice fields? A likely story indeed.

"And so there is no one left?"

"Well, you could try the temple—perhaps Kaede has come for a visit. She likes to yell at me about eating the vegetables, though she only comes every six months or so. There isn't much there—ever since the old miko was killed by the Lord of the Western Lands and the Shikon no Tama vanished—well all it is now, is a place to dry off from the rain." The man's teeth crunched into an onion and offered Miroku a bite.

"I see," Miroku murmured, placing his straw hat atop his head, declining politely. The first startling colors of morning sun had arrived, although they would be short lived, for not even an hour would pass before the rains would begin again.

As Sesshoumaru would later say, the two seemed to scare the sun away sooner or later.

Heaving a sigh, Miroku thanked the old man, who, after offering them some freshly picked vegetables from his rival's garden (which Miroku took, and promptly paid for) went back to his mad abacus work, as though he and he alone could solve all the problems of the world with those beads. Or maybe he was figuring out how many vegetables he could eat in a day.

Bringing his own horse to the top of the small hill that Sesshoumaru had perched himself upon, Miroku said nothing for a long moment. Long grass, without a blade of yellow, swayed in the warm breeze, hinted with the scent of wet soil and overripe fruit. It was different, down here in the valley, looking up at the worn faded hills above.

"Well, what did you make of that?" Miroku broached as he gingerly touched his still tender-wound and winced.

"Maybe you were right," Sesshoumaru replied absentmindedly, gazing out at the wash of abandoned rice-fields and orchards, the scent of desolation as strong as the grass beneath him.

"How so?" Miroku questioned, "Not that I don't mind being right or anything."

In truth, Miroku was amused by Sesshoumaru's approach to life, love, and everything. The youkai was more than met the eye to be sure—on the surface he was a cold-blooded ruler, ruthless and as strict as could be. But obviously a passion burned deep within this being—one that Kagome had managed to uncover.

Perhaps this was why their relationship was so strong. Kagome saw the true youkai, buried beneath the years of blood and sweat.

And perhaps, Sesshoumaru saw through the almost tom-boyish nature that Kagome often-times possessed. He saw the strong flower hiding beneath the towering leaf above. Kagome was a rose, beautiful, delicate but dangerous when needed.

"Maybe we are all fish, or moths, or monkeys—whatever you prefer. If we are scared we hide, if it is safe we move towards our goal. Is the light really the sun or the fisherman that has come to snatch us?"

"This sounds awfully fatalistic. Remember that oftentimes even if tempted into a trap a fish can get away. It is slippery and wet, it was designed that way. It can get out of very tight situations." The monk distinguished quite literally.

_And this is a very tight situation indeed, _Sesshoumaru whispered to himself. Not only must he manage to explain to Inuyasha that he didn't kill his past lover (which certainly explained a _lot _of things, perhaps Inuyasha's entire motive in this war) and continue to explain that Naraku was a traitor to both himself and Inuyasha…but somehow, _somehow, _he had to make Inuyasha see and understand his emotions towards his wife.

Suddenly he wanted very much to be a fish.

_Why is it that of all obstacles I have had to face, I fear this one the most? _

Why?

_Because you have the most to loose…___

Moving their horses towards the direction of the shrine, Miroku commented, "From this angle I could have sworn we were in your domain the view is so similar."

Glancing once again at the endless wave of green, the dark rolling hills and the grey tumultuous clouds, Sesshoumaru supposed that the monk was right.

---------------

It was dawn, Kagome noted dimly, finding sleep clawing at her eyes. The sun had not yet risen, but in the misty depths of the mountain plateau, she saw the familiar gleam of the blue tiles which adorned Sesshoumaru's fortress. They gleamed in the grey light, only heightened by the thick overhang of clouds which had been steadily increasing all night, much to her and the party's dismay. These clouds meant rain.

She turned her head behind her and glanced back at Kouga, who, at this moment was staring pensively into the horizon, a serious expression residing on his features.

"What is it?" Kagome began. What could the leader of the wolf-clan be so worried about? The fortress was within view, and no doubt they were a good hour and a half ahead of Naraku's men.

"Those clouds," Kouga began, scratching his stubble, "Those clouds over there look pretty menacing, and, if I am correct, that is Inuyasha's land."

Her gaze traveled to the distant horizon, nearly black in this light.

She felt foolish in asking, but nevertheless bared her ignorance to the matters of war.

"I know that rain is bad…but why do you look _so _serious about it?"

Kouga's troubled glance strayed from the distant mountains and fell lightly onto Kagome's gaze, "Rain, Kagome, is bad. And, by the likes of it, those clouds look like the main brunt of the incoming monsoon."

He paused and licked his lips, "War is bad enough, even when the weather is good. But rain, rain makes things tricky. You loose more men, there are more mistakes. Rain draws out anything that you wish'd to become accomplished. It only makes war longer. And more bloody."

"I see," Kagome finally decided upon. So, the rain elongated any clash of arms and the flow of blood. Mother Nature was ruthless indeed. She hid a grimace and faced the misty forest before her, the red trees, the overhanging branches filled with green pinecones and the blanket of slippery shining needles at her feet.

Beneath her body, the horse trotted on, following the worn path. Kagome was thankful that the creature appeared to know where they were going—it allowed her to talk with Kouga, and clear her mind somewhat. Yet at this moment her mind was about as clear as the skies above.

The night's journey had been long and arduous and not allowing her sleep for one moment. At about two in the morning, sleep had stopped becoming a priority and for a period of five hours or so, she was pushed forward with the help of her adrenaline. She could not afford to rest until after this business was taken care of.

"Now, be careful," Kouga warned, urging his horse forward so that it was at level with hers, "When we appear from out of the forest they will no doubt try to attack us. That's why we haft to wait at the edge of the forest and wait for them to speak to us. Once we tell them why we're there, things should go 'somewhat' more smoothly."

Kagome nodded and questioned, "Are you saying you want this to be left to you?"

Kouga pursed his somewhat chapped lips and mulled over the question, "Truth be told, I would rather let ya handle it. I mean, this little 'escapade' was all your idea anyway—but I don't know if the soldiers will, erm, want to talk to you."

Biting her tongue, Kagome said nothing. So, the soldiers did not want to talk to her because she was female? Well then, so be it.

"But, on the other side, a female travelin' with us makes it look like our intentions are peaceful, so…" Kouga's voice trailed off; not exactly knowing what to say from there. Deciding that it was better not to talk about 'female roles,' Kouga discretely coughed and hurriedly continued on," In any case, as soon as we have said our peace to them, we _have _to go."

Kagome glanced down at the worn leather reigns, her expression softer now, if not only a tad melancholy.

"I know that you would rather _wait, _but Naraku's men will be upon this mountain range in less than an hour and a half, and we _need _to make sure we are a good distance away before the fighting starts. Naraku's men may be slow marchers, but from what I have heard in the past they are vicious in the battlefield."

Kagome, clearing her throat, pointed out politely, "But aren't all battlefields vicious?"

Kouga chuckled at her remark and thought about it for a long moment, bringing his horse into the lead so that it surpassed her own on the dark trail. They were not but a half kilometer from Sesshoumaru's fortress and already the trees were beginning to thin in the grey light.

"War is vicious to be sure," Kouga began, "But even in the battlefield there is a rough code of ethics."

"For example?" Kagome urged, feeling the stirring of her heart as she recognized the familiar balcony on the western expanse.

"Well, for example, let's say you had received a fatal wound or something like that. It is inevitable that you're gonna die…so often times the opposing side kills you while you're down."

"That doesn't seem very honorable." Kagome replied, quite tersely, wondering if these were methods Inuyasha or Sesshoumaru employed.

"Of course it's honorable. Would you rather die a quick death or an excruciatingly painful one? I would go for the first one, m'self."

Kagome chose not to reply, her blue eyes flashing to the clearing ahead and growing light. The sun, appearing momentarily from behind a cloud, was just beginning to shine through the thin trees; brushing the tops in a color like that of honey.

"Slow…slow…," Kouga whispered, and Kagome could not tell if he was talking to her or the horse or both of them.

The first call of the lark wailed through the mountain range, and with that first chirp and whoop the momentary sun extinguished like a candle in the night. The clouds had gobbled it up greedily.

---------------

"General Inamoto! General Inamoto!" A guard called, rushing through the compounds, past the bustling food distribution center, in-between the isolated vegetable and herb garden, and out to the grassy stables where the general was supposedly checking the condition of his horse.

The guard arrived breathless and flushed, but never the less, even though doubled over, he choked out, "General…(huff)…a group has been (puff) spotted on the hills."

The general, who had not paid attention to the over-zealous guard at first rose his eyebrows, "What?"

"A group of seven people or so are at the edge of the southern clearing, just (puff) standing there. They say they want to speak to you."

The general's gaze turned stormy, "Just seven, you say? Did you not detect anyone through the trees?"

The guard, gulping, admitted, "They had a female with them, and from the looks of it, the remaining people seemed to be a wolf-youkai of some sort."

The expression on the general's face did not clear in the least.

"Indeed? A female, you say? And what colors were they wearing? Did they have no lineage?"

The guard, glancing over his shoulder at the arrival of a second guard behind him, continued, "There were no banners. At first we thought them trappers or thieves, and if the girl had not been with them—,"

The general waved his hand to motion for the guard to shut up, "I will be there in a minute. This is most unexpected."

"Sir?" The guard questioned, his eyes averted.

"What are you still doing here?" the guard snapped, "Get back to duty, and make sure that this 'group' stays on the edge of the property."

The guard and his companion quickly bowed and shuffled away, presumably back to the compound to inform the others of the general's decision.

Nodding to the blacksmith about the condition of his chocolate-colored mare, General Inamoto sighed and made his way into the kitchen. There was someone he had to find. By the sounds of what the nameless guard had told him, this might have been the party that Sesshoumaru had sent away some days ago. But why were there only seven? As he recalled there had been at least nine.

It was a possibility that two of them had died in battle, but what were the remainder doing here? It had only been a few days, and as he had heard, this party was destined for Kyoto or Edo, not to return to the war zone.

There was only one or two people remaining who could clearly identify the people in this group, and this was who he was searching for at this very moment. They weren't particularly hard to find. Both were still sleeping after their tiring journey, which, he had heard, had taken several months.

Opening the shoji screen to the fox-demon's room, he barked, "Go wake up the Lady Rin and tell her that we have a crisis on our hands."

The fox demon looked up groggily, his mouth hanging open, his auburn hair unbecoming in this early hour. However, when he saw who was addressing him he woke up almost instantly.

"Meet me in the compounds in five minutes with Lady Rin." He commanded, turning on his heal and making his way back towards the direction he had come.

When Sesshoumaru had first told him that his assignment was to guard his fortress and the Sagano Pass he had been insulted. It turned out that had been rather short-sighted of him. How could he have forgotten his teachings from military school? There was no un-important post.

Grabbing a rice ball, he quickly ate it, stuffing it into his mouth, heartbeat quickening. For some reason…he did not have a very good feeling about what this group had come to say or do.

Not a good feeling at all.

It took the Lady Rin and her youkai follower but four minutes to reach the compound, appearing in a flush of emotion mixed with the symptoms of being still half-asleep.

"What is it?" she questioned groggily, tugging on her loose garments, her bleary eyes glancing about at all the soldiers that were eying the group in unveiled interest.

"It seems," General Inamoto began, stroking his moustache, "That a mysterious group has appeared at the edge of the compounds. I have been told that they wish to talk to me, and I have a nagging suspicion that the people in this group might be strangely familiar to you both."

Shippou and Rin exchanged glances, somewhat more awake now.

"Where are they?" Shippou questioned, stepping slightly forward, his eyes glancing about at the elevated verandas above, that were firmly attached to the moss engulfed stone walls that comprised Sesshoumaru's fortress.

"Come, follow me." Inamoto instructed, turning sharply and taking long lengthy strides across the compound and towards the base of a ladder. "From above we will be able to converse with them, but at a distant. I am taking no chances, especially with the Lady Rin on the premises."

Shippou, standing behind Rin, nodded and commented fiercely, "I understand your concern."

Rin said nothing, but began to climb the ladder.

Once atop the veranda, surprisingly sound, and the wind wiping about their heads, the general pointed towards the clearing most near to them. In late summer the grasses were yellowed and fading, especially on the mountaintop plateau with no nearby streams. Still, a few freckled blue-bells managed to bloom amongst the yellow, and, Rin noted, deep in the shade of the wood, she could see the dark scarlet of the camellias.

"There," The general Inamoto motioned, his weathered face serious and distraught, as though his choice of action would rely upon Shippou and Rin recognizing the party members.

Rin, squinting in the dim light of the gray dawn whispered, "It can't be…"

"It can't be what?" Inamoto inquired hurriedly.

"But why would they come back?" Shippou sighed, he too looking towards the shadow of the figures some fifty feet away.

"Why would who come back?" Inamoto persisted, finding his temper beginning to flare. Were all young adults this difficult nowadays—or only the ones that the Lord Sesshoumaru allowed to live in his house?

"It appears to be Kouga, Kagome and the other members of his clan," Shippou answered seriously, his eyes still resting on that point, hidden in the brush of the wood.

"Do you mean Lady Kagome—the girl that was in Sesshoumaru's custody?" Inamoto nearly goggled, licking his lips in nervousness.

Before either the incredulous Shippou or bemused Rin could answer a shout shot across the wind, calling, "Rin? Shippou? Is that you?"

The young lady's eyes flashed over the swarm of moving grasses and into the dim recesses of the forest, where the sound had emitted.

The general, his teeth gritted, warned, "It could be a trap. Can you see them youkai?"

Shippou, controlling any scowl or appearance of anger at being so rudely acknowledged, leaned over the edge of the moss-warn structure and squinted his eyes. Indeed, there were several things—whether people or youkai he could not tell. Yet, as he continued to watch, he saw one shape separate themselves from the group and slowly, ever slowly, make its way into the grey light of the pre-dawn hours.

And once she had exited from the shadows of the trees all became clear. Shippou gulped. It was indeed the Lady Kagome, without a doubt. Of course her garments had changed and she looked quite dirty, but in her stance, in her gaze you could tell that this figure was brought from a regal background.

"L-Lady Kagome?!" Shippou sputtered as he called across the grassy meadow.

Another member dispatched itself from the group and walked into the grey light.

"And Kouga…," Rin breathed still incredulous.

The general shot wary glances at the two youngsters before questioning aggregately, "Well, do you know them or not?"

Shippou, grinning like mad now, though still perplexed as to why Kagome and Kouga were there. Shippou chuckled, "Know them? Know them? I would say so after having to spend two months with them!"

The general grumbled something under his breath and was about to call down to the two murky figures before a voice, none other than Kouga's, rang out across the silence of slumbering dawn.

"Look, we'd _really _love to stand in the grass any other day but today. But we've got to speak to the general, so if you don't mind could you let us in? It's not like we have a whole lot of time here!"

The general shifted his eyes from the two standing by him at the fortress and then to the two figures adrift in the field below. Catching the gate-keepers eye from down below, he gave a swift nod and sighed. For some reason he didn't have a very good feeling about all this…

---------------

Kagome, sipping on some hot miso broth, sighed. The general, eyeing the rather worse-for-wear party, sighed as well. Kouga, taking a cat nap off in the corner, snored softly.

"Well, you said there was something you wanted to discuss?" General Inamoto questioned exasperatedly, casting a horrified glance at one of the members of the group who had just found a flee in his hair and was crushing it between his two finger-nails.

"Yes, well you see," Kagome began, studying the weave in the tatami mats, wondering when it had become so hard to speak again. Maybe it was the presence of unfamiliar men. Or maybe it was because she was back at Sesshoumaru's fortress, a place she had sworn never to visit again…a youkai that she had sworn never to…

Well, thoughts like that would get her nowhere.

So, swallowing her courage with the remaining miso-broth, she cleared her throat and began. Began as best she could.

"As you were informed we are _supposed _to be far away by now, in the safety of neighboring lands—,"

"Yes," The general cut in, crossing his arms, "You _were _supposed to be."

"Be that as it may, we had every intent of leaving, I can assure you. That was until we stumbled across something that we felt you should be informed of immediately."

Inamoto raised an eyebrow, a long, bushy, scraggly eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"We saw Naraku's men taking the Seikoku road. This road as you know follows the rear of the mountains…but why, I wondered, why would his men be taking such a long and out of the way route, should they wish to attack Inuyasha?"

"Why indeed?" Inamoto frowned, stroking his clean-shaven chin.

Kagome took a deep breath. This was what the past day had been for. The race against time. For this moment right here. To warn Sesshoumaru's men. To save innocent lives against the scum of the earth. But why was it so hard to say?

"I-It's because," She stuttered, bowing her head, hiding her face more than anything, "Naraku is planning on attacking this fortress in a little over an hour. The group and I managed to out-ride them by proceeding directly here. But we knew that you needed to be warned."

Inamoto looked shocked and quickly took a long deep draft of tea.

She continued, feeling she ought to explain it all, "No one expected Naraku to attack here, even you."

Inamoto did not argue. In fact, he was beginning to look rather pleased. A slight flush of excitement had risen, like apples, to his cheeks.

"No, I suppose you are right. I _did _not expect anyone to attack."

Kagome nodded, and urged, "Then please, trust my word, and should Kouga be awake—,"

"—I'm awake." He called from the corner, his eyes still closed.

"Please trust our words. I…I only wish what is best for the sake of Sesshoumaru."

Inamoto's expression changed to one of mild shock, "But aren't you Inuyasha's wife?"

Kagome gulped and admitted, "Yes. But I do not support this war in the least."

Inamoto brushed off his robes and nodded to Kagome, sitting in the sea of tatami, "I trust your word. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to inform the men. There isn't much time at all. Should his men attack, that is."

Kouga, eyes still closed, snorted, "There would've been less time if we hadn't come you know."

The general's wrinkles on his face were lit by the glow from the shoji, giving him a very tired and aged look, and nodding once more before making his way towards the exit. Yet, at the door, he paused and spoke quickly, "And what will you do now, Lady Kagome?"

The blue-eyed girl, her head still bent low, whispered, "Once the men and I are clean and our supplies renewed, we shall return to the countryside. We cannot afford to be captured in this war. I believe more than anyone, I want it to be over as soon as possible."

The shoji screen slid open and the figure of Inamoto slid out, only becoming a water-torn shadow against the white canvas. He melted away into the backdrop, his steps slowly growing softer and softer as he tred across firm earth ground. Soon the whisper and shock could be felt throughout the stone walls of the fortress. Voices were more urgent, steps more quick.

Yes, soon war would arrive here as well.

Kagome closed her eyes feeling the need for sleep to engulf her form for the first time in what seemed like eons. She was just about to slip into the milky darkness that she longed for when she felt a pair of strong warm arms around her and the ticklish whisper in her ear of, "Not now, princess, we have be off if you don't want your pretty little head to be chopped off."

Kagome, opening her eyelids with much effort, mumbled something along the lines of, "But what about Rin and Shippou?"

Kouga, practically carrying her now, explained, "They'll understand, Kagome. After all, this is war. Yeh can't have your tea ceremony every day of the week now can ya?"

She did not respond, but instead was led out of the room and into the pavilion where their new horses were waiting, burdened fresh with supplies.

Kagome was half asleep as she gave her second good-bye to Sesshoumaru's fortress, the image half real and half illusion in her mind.

An illusion and reality she would treasure.

---------------

It was eerie standing amongst the forgotten graves of nameless villagers in the grey light of dawn. The forest was deadly silent, not even a bird of the morning dared to sing a sweet sad song in such a place at such a time. A light rain had begun, but this was the least of Sesshoumaru's worries, as he picked his way through a barely visible path, that would (supposedly) lead the two of them to the rear of the shrine of the Shikon no Tama.

The moss-covered graves seemed to lead the way.

"Pretty—er—welcoming, don't you think?" Miroku questioned from behind him, at that moment walking through a large spider-web.

Sesshoumaru chose not to reply. He was studying the territory. Already in the distance he could see the nearly invisible rooftop through the trees. The traditional naturalist Shinto architecture. Soon they would be upon it, and all that would be left to do was wait.

It wasn't the waiting that bothered Sesshoumaru—more like the actual confrontation.

The path had turned more decipherable with faded and dirty white gravel now covering the ground. It crunched beneath their feet.

_Yes, we are most stealthy indeed, _Sesshoumaru chuckled to himself looking up into the tree-tops and the grey that surrounded them. He could see the tips of the clouds swirling and fingering about the tips of the great pine trees.

"There it is," Sesshoumaru breathed, finding that the path had led them to a small courtyard where there was a small aged well that had long grasses surrounding its worn-moss covered edges.

Miroku, who had his head bent while he tried to free spider-web from his garments, continued to walk—right in to Sesshoumaru.

"What are we standing here for?" He questioned, rubbing his head in pain. Sesshoumaru _was _wearing armor after all. He may have been a youkai, but he wasn't so arrogant as to presume he was immortal.

But Sesshoumaru did not say anything. His golden eyes were now slits of cunning as he watched something move its way across the court-yard.

Peaking out from behind Sesshoumaru's backside, he commented with a simple, "Oh."

It was a miko. A young, fair and beautiful miko. But a miko nonetheless. At first she had been oblivious to the presence of a silver-haired youkai and his monk companion standing at the edge of the back trail that had been un-used for years. However, as she neared the well, her dark eyes strayed into the woods and she held in a gasp.

The three did not say anything for a long time. But finally, the miko, gently placing the bucket on the edge of the structure crossed her arms and questioned, "You must be Sesshoumaru; Lord of the Western lands and half-brother to Inuyasha."

His lips curled. _What had given it away_, he wondered idly? _The golden eyes or the silver hair?_

"Yes, you are correct." He replied smoothly, wondering what would be the most efficient way to kill her. He had no time for exchanging pleasantries with the likes of priestesses, "And you might be?"

The girl stepped forward her footstep echoing against the light drizzle. _Ah, she is a brazen one, much like Kagome, _Sesshoumaru thought as he studied her in disdain.

"My name is Kaede. I am the sister to the former shrine-priestess. I do believe you have heard of Kikyou? My sister who you supposedly murdered?"

Sesshoumaru was not one to show emotions. And, even though this information did come as somewhat of a surprise, it was not as hard a blow as it potentially could have been. He was no fool and bit his tongue as he eyed the priestess warily. He had misjudged her. Indeed she was fiery, like Kagome, but she was also powerful and not afraid to use her power.

Now was not the time to mess up, especially with the end glinting before him like the drops of water hanging from the shrine's awning.

"Supposedly," Sesshoumaru repeated archly, flexing his long nails, "I am the one who killed your beloved sister."

The priestess, Kaede, watched him for another long moment, her face almost as expressionless as his—her eyes only displaying any emotion she felt. She was but a mask in that moment. A floating mask in the rain.

"Yes," she replied curtly, displaying her back to him, a dangerous thing to do before a youkai, "Supposedly. But then again, I have never been one to believe a rumor."

Sesshoumaru smirked. Perhaps there was a ray of sunlight in this grey proverbial storm.

"I see," the youkai replied blandly, taking a step towards her across the white expanse of gravel.

Kaede, her black hair glistening in the rain, turned to face him now, her eyes dead serious, "No, in fact I know you did not kill my sister."

"Then why are you here?" He found himself responding almost automatically. This was a question he was wondering. This place was dangerous—and soon to be more so. It wasn't as though he felt pity for her, or even concern; he just hated to see an entire family wiped out by the likes of the Naraku.

But Naraku would come later, Sesshoumaru swore. Later.

"I am here for the same reason you are here," she replied, picking up the bucket and motioning the two (Miroku temporarily forgotten amongst the ferns) towards the front of the shrine, "To bring about the end to an age of war. A pointless war..."

"Well, I'm glad someone here has any sense left!" Miroku piped up for the first time, wiping some water off his nose (along with the last of the spider-web). The rain was beginning to grow with intensity. The black cloud would soon be upon them and then they would be swimming in the sea.

Kaede chuckled and questioned, "And you might be?"

Miroku, although still in pain from his wound, managed to hobble forward and bow, "The name is Miroku. I am, technically, Inuyasha's advisor—but have been temporarily on 'vacation' for the past few months."

The rain continued to grow stealthily heavier and the bows of the trees began to moan. Perhaps it was only Sesshoumaru who noticed the change, but it was one he did not like. Not only for the darkening skies but for his darkening hopes, should he call them hopes, as well.

The three of them, standing amongst the clearing of white gravel held their tongues for a moment. The sound of a distant screech echoed through the mossy tree tops.

"What was that?" Miroku whispered in apprehension, making his way towards the awning of the shrine that would provide some shelter from the thick rain.

Peering up into the constant swirl of grey fog and cloud, Sesshoumaru squeezed his golden eyes together. He knew exactly what it was, flying against the tide of the storm.

"It is one of my falcons. A general must have sent word." He replied absently, wondering how it was that Miroku could not recognize the call of a falcon. Surely Inuyasha must use the same method for communication. It seemed utterly absurd if he did not.

A shape, dimly recognizable at first, began to take form in the film. Yes, it was one of his falcons indeed, flying high and smooth and slick. Sesshoumaru's raised his arm and waited for the bird to perch itself upon it in a great surge of energy. A few seconds later, in a swoop of movement and brown tawny feathers, _Satoshi, _Sesshoumaru's favorite falcon for long distant messages, crashed down (rather painfully) onto his arm.

"Is it one of yours?" Miroku called from the awning, all but obstructed by the roar of water.

Nodding, Sesshoumaru made his way as well into the temporary shelter of the shrine, Satoshi now sitting contentedly upon his shoulder, nipping at a strand of his silver hair.

"Well, open it up!" Miroku urged impatiently, slowly lowering himself onto the porch, "It could be something important!"

Giving an irritable scowl to Miroku, he snapped, "Of course it is important. They would not have sent it if it wasn't."

Kaede laughed softly to herself, but neither of the two men noticed.

Unsealing the water-proof case and carefully pulling out the rolled piece of thick mulberry paper, the Lord of the Western Lands internally paled. It was from who he feared; General Inamoto. Sesshoumaru's personal fortress was the only uncertainty in his war. Was this letter explaining of their defeat? The large amount of casualties? Were they now fighting a guerilla war to remain in control?

Sesshoumaru broke the seal and read…

_To Lord Sesshoumaru of the Western Lands,_

_I feel it my honor and duty to inform you of the turn of events that has happened this morning at your fortress. At dawn a group of travelers appeared at the edge of the citadel and turned out to be none other than the Lady Kagome and the wolf bandit, Kouga and his followers. I was most struck by their arrival seeing as how I had previously believed them being sent away for safety. The Lady Kagome had come to inform me that within the hour Naraku's army would be attacking the fortress, and as she predicated, the army arrived not an hour after. The battle was quick and the fortress remained protected. There were few casualties. The Lady and her party shortly thereafter their arrival took to the hills to their previously scheduled itinerary. I will send you again when I have more particulars on the damage and casualties._

_General Inamoto_

"Well, what does it say?" Miroku questioned hurriedly, trying to read through the thick paper from his seated position.

Sesshoumaru was flabbergasted. Utterly flabbergasted. _She had done…what? _He had to re-read the letter several times through before he officially allowed the information to filter, ever slowly, into his mind. It fell from one level to another like a drop of rain bouncing from branch to branch.

So, it seemed, Kagome had returned to his fortress. Whether or not he felt pain or guilt or regret he could not say. All he knew was that he would wish himself there immediately if there was any hope of catching a glimpse of the woman he had come to—

--_But Naraku had attacked? _This news did not come as surprising, about as unsurprising as a monk predicting rain during the monsoon season. And his men had won? They were victorious?

And all thanks to Kagome—the girl now somewhere in the ferny wild, somewhere in the mist.

"It is none of your concern what it says," Sesshoumaru finally breathed with much effort, casting his golden eyes towards the underbrush. He could have sworn he saw a flicker of movement—but no, his eyes must have been deceiving him. He was tired and anxious, he had to remind himself. Even he, the great Lord of the Western Lands, did not work well under pressure such as this.

He did not like to be trapped in a transparent net, as unseen as the wisps of fog.

"What do you mean 'it is none of my concern'?" Miroku shot, standing quite suddenly, though wincing in pain as he had once again temporarily forgotten his injury.

"Sit back down," Sesshoumaru grumbled, slipping the letter into the dim shadows of his garments. There was so much to take care of and so little time. He was a fish out of water, gulping at this horrid air, in hopes of returning to the cool dark place that he longed for so fervently.

Kaede, a stern expression on her face, stood up and announced, "I believe you should come to the front of the shrine. The others who we wait for are sure to arrive from main entrance. You two were brave to face the steep climb of the back-trail which is truly admirable."

Miroku smirked softly to himself—yes, that back trail _had _been hell, hadn't it? Sesshoumaru just nodded curtly, not sparing any emotions. There were none to be had as it was. His reserves had vanished and what Inuyasha or Naraku saw was all they could expect. For the first time in his life he had no cards up his sleeves, no blackmails, no promises.

There was just him. Struggling alone. Wanting to return.

Their footsteps were muted now as they walked softly from one slick stepping stone to another, small puddles of water trailing in their mist. The pine trees above were silent. There were no birds. No whispers. No conversations. Just the rain and the sound of water.

Sesshoumaru, his eyes averted, his mouth but a thin line of pink against his pale face, scowled inwardly. Although it was only dawn he could feel Inuyasha's presence was growing ever closer. As much as he hated to admit it, he and his half brother were indeed connected. Maybe the hot-headed fool had never noticed but, but Sesshoumaru could tell with surprisingly clarity that his brother was very close. So very close.

And Naraku—what of him? Sesshoumaru was sure the fool would be reappearing before the two of them. Yes, of this his was certain.

But he stopped. As had the two before him. His eyes looked up not expecting to see the vision of red and white before him.

His golden gaze met one of remarkably similar shade.

"Sesshoumaru…," the figure breathed, his chest heaving from the strenuous climb.

So. Inuyasha had arrived.

Against the rain. Against the wet. Against the war.

And now, there was but one path left to walk.

The most intricate and agonizing path of all.

Sesshoumaru took one step forward.

And after that one, one more.

After all, he was a fish in the net.

What more could he do but struggle?

And live.

---------------

---------------

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Author's Notes: You don't need to know how sorry I am that this chapter took so long. Japan. College. You name it. Please note that chapter 34 is 3/4s of the way finished. Be patient with me. These chapters grow more difficult.

And, as usual, thanks to all contributors, including my beta-readers, Sweat Pea, for this chapter as well as the beta readers also soon to be put back to work with S.P. Taskin Lude! So, e-mail me questions, comments, and as always, read, review, and whatnot. :D


	34. beneath shadows and leaves

**Shadows Against a Shoji Screen**

**Chapter 34: Beneath Shadows and Leaves**

Sesshoumaru could not have asked for more appropriate weather himself. It seemed to suit the mood perfectly. The black dripping branches surrounded the clearing of the Shrine of the Shikon no Tama with the effervescent droplets crashing down onto the foliage below. The figures were blockaded by the musical symphony of water; water everywhere. The great ferns floating above the brim of the forest floor were in a constant state of movement as though they were gifted with the same strength of the ocean; the ability to ebb and flow.

And now the tide was crashing in.

The wind was subdued although prone to great anomalous gusts that would catch his dampened silver locks and thrash them about violently in the air. And most importantly there was the grey—the color that he seemed to be sinking in. The clouds were low on the horizon; so close that he could have sworn his claws could touch their forms. It was said that when the horizon was low, such as this, a journey's end was near.

He hoped this voyage would end soon indeed.

"Sesshoumaru…," the voice he knew all too well greeted him from across the gravel expanse.

It was none other than his half-brother, Inuyasha, bathed in a throne of red. A muted, dulled, red.

The Lord of the Western Lands opened his mouth, but paused. With this first sentence, with the first word, there would be no going back. It was the point beyond no return. With the first word he would seal his fate to whatever the outcome should be.

He swallowed his pride, the painful dish that it was, and called out, "Inuyasha, at last we meet…"

If the hanyou-lord was unnerved he did not display it, but instead flexed his long razor-sharp claws and smirked, "We've come down to it. You can't escape now. I'll make you pay for everything you've done."

The youkai-lord had been expecting this, but even now he felt imprudent and childish in his purpose. He hadn't a clue on how he was supposed to explain everything to Inuyasha. How was he going to make his fool-hardy brother see against the smoke that blinded his tear-strewn eyes?

But the highest form was no form—and this would be his guide through this wet and slippery landscape.

"Yes, we have come down to it," Sesshoumaru managed, his golden eyes watching the treetops. Where was the expected visitor? Where the hell was Naraku?

"You're going to suffer like you never imagined," Inuyasha continued bitterly, taking a step forward, breaking the invisible boundary between the two.

His footsteps echoed against the white gravel, shifting the small stones. The moss that had grown on the surface was disrupted and floated in the sea of puddles.

"I believe, Inuyasha," Sesshoumaru began at last, his hand resting atop his sword's sheath in a casual manner, "That before you cut me down the middle, stew me and feed me to your dogs you listen to what I have to tell you; for I can assure you that you will regret it if you silence my voice now."

The golden-eyed hanyou sneered and snorted, "Listen? To you? Are you out of your mind?"

Quite possibly, Sesshoumaru sighed inwardly, wondering how much longer it would take for Naraku to arrive—Sesshoumaru's time to act was counted, measured, and begrudgingly given out.

For the first time in his life he would be bare; without protection. It was foolish, utterly foolish—but there was no other way he could manage to make Inuyasha see. He had to make his argument swift and painful—he had to reach the heart of Inuyasha before anyone else could. Yes, there was no other way…

"Just to prove that my intentions are," Sesshoumaru paused. What were his intentions? He certainly wanted to convince the prat that he hadn't slain his lover some odd eighteen years ago, in addition to making it absolutely certain that Naraku was the scum of the earth and would stop at nothing for his control of power—and finally, finally, there was Kagome. Yes, Kagome…. He continued. "…to prove my intentions as just…"

Sesshoumaru's claws reached out for his sword and Inuyasha stiffened, the hanyou's grip having wound painfully about the hilt of Tetsusaiga.

It took only a moment to free himself from the bindings of the sword, and withdraw the blade and sheath as one the youkai lord glanced over his shoulders to find that the priestess Kaede and the advisor Miroku were still there. Much to his relief they had not taken shelter into the dense foliage of drifting ferns, but instead were planted quite firmly behind him, their expressions grave.

He tossed the sword and hilt to a flabbergasted Miroku who caught it in uncertainty and sputtered, "What the devil do you think you are doing S-Sesshoumaru?!"

The youkai said nothing but allowed his lips to turn upwards, "I am showing my underside."

Kaede, stepping forward, her expression as dark and morose as the skies above insisted, "But Inuyasha could kill you—easily! And what of Naraku? What if he should arrive? You are but a sitting duck."

Sesshoumaru only gave a stern look to Miroku and instructed, "Take care of it. I will want it back when Naraku returns."

Inuyasha, as though for the past five minutes hadn't noticed Miroku's frame in the recesses of the shrine, sputtered in amazement and incredulity, "M-Miroku?"

The advisor to Inuyasha gave an apologetic smile, a smile that neither of them quite knew the meanings to. What was the message behind the smile? A smile of apology? Betrayal? Miroku admitted to himself that technically he had betrayed his lord—yet throughout it all his intentions had been pure. The betrayal had been one out of necessity; to save his best friend _and_ lord. It was a betrayal to save the innocent villagers, to stop the bloodshed; it was an honorable purpose. And, even though Inuyasha may yell, kick, scream and bleed—inevitably it was a truth. This war had finally come to an end and the means of accomplishing such a goal was staring at him from across the courtyard.

"Hello, Inuyasha," he greeted, almost sadly, noticing absently that Inuyasha's clothes were ripped in a few places and stained in something that looked quite like blood.

The hanyou lord sputtered to find words to explain his utter shock and disbelief. Why was Miroku—his most trusted companion and friend here? And standing on the side of Sesshoumaru? It just made no sense whatsoever. Then again what did make sense anymore? Why was he here? Why was Sesshoumaru behaving so strangely? Disarming himself no less.

"Why are you here?" He questioned, directing his comment towards his former companion, his voice vibrating with controlled emotion.

"I'm here for the same reason you are," Miroku answered smoothly, too smoothly. It was obvious that this conversation was one he had been expecting for some time. Yes, he knew that these words were to be spoken long before his master had.

"And what is that?" The hanyou raged, gritting his teeth in anger.

"To put an end to this war," the advisor admitted, almost sadly and defeated. He bent his head downward and heaved a great sigh, small streamlets of water trickling down his cheek, giving the appearance that he was crying.

"And have you sided with Sesshoumaru, then?" It was a low, dangerous voice. It was a voice filled with angry sentiments and misunderstandings he had not put right.

"I haven't sided with anyone, you fool," Miroku explained, resting his hands on his hips and looking at those golden eyes across the several meters that they were separated, "I'm here so that you two—," he motioned to Sesshoumaru and Inuyasha in a broad expansive sweep, "Can finally sort out this conflict. And, I think, as your advisor, that you ought to listen to what Sesshoumaru has to say—,"

"—so you've sided with him then! You traitor!"

"I'm just as much a traitor as you, Inuyasha. You who swore you would never align yourself with someone like Naraku—Naraku who as soon as he is finished destroying Sesshoumaru's lands, and Sesshoumaru also being an ally to Naraku, I might add, will come and destroy yours. You're revenge has blinded you, Inuyasha. Just admit that this war has been a mistake from day one!"

The speech of sorts seemed to have exhausted Miroku and he gasped for breath, though still clutching onto Sesshoumaru's sword. He felt for his ribcage and winced, trying to hide any pain he so obviously felt, "Listen," he breathed hoarsely, his voice but above a whisper though all heard, "If you have faith in me, in our friendship, listen what your brother—and this priestess have to say. There can be peace and honor for everyone, you know."

The hanyou's golden eyes erupted into a storm of emotions. What was Miroku saying? How had his best friend been so blinded by the likes of Sesshoumaru?

Yet, studying his foul brother, he did find the turn of events rather odd. The notion that his brother should give up his weapon seemed most unlike him. Inuyasha's golden eyes, now dark brown in frustration, scanned the nearby ferns for soldiers or any sign that he would be ambushed. But there was nothing, just the gentle swaying of the green sea.

"This is no trap," Sesshoumaru noted, almost lazily, following his brother's gaze, "All you see before me is all there is."

"I can see that," Inuyasha stepped forward once again, crossing his arms and feigning an expression of ardent dislike and disinterest. Well, he supposed half-heartedly, if his brother was going to die by his hand he might as well give the youkai his final rights. The beast was unarmed now, venerable, and whenever Inuyasha chose he could rip him from limb to limb. His power over his father's blade had grown greater in the past months as had his swordsmanship in general. "And I guess I'll let you have a word or two. But only because you are pathetic on every level."

Sesshoumaru's jaw tightened and he whispered, "Just because I wish to set things right does not give you a right to throw weighted words. Remember that, brother of mine."

Inuyasha just grunted a 'feh' sort of sound and relaxed his stance, but only somewhat. His hand still clutched Tetsusaiga, prepared, like a cat ready to strike.

At that moment it began to rain harder, not yet so much an onslaught, but quite close to such a level. The ocean of green swayed even more, as did the black and grey branches above the audiences' head. In such confusing weather it was easy to overlook a shadowy figure lofted amongst the thick green pine needles.

The demon-lord in took a shuddering breath and began. He had to make this clear, quick, and precise. He had to make his brother see. To open those golden eyes of such a similar shade to his own. This war had to stop. The countryside could not support their greed for much longer.

And so, he began. Careful and cautious.

"Since this war began I have heard many rumors regarding the reasoning behind it. I have never questioned my motives in attacking; I wished for the sword that you now clutch so desperately—," Inuyasha's grip about its hilt tightened at this remark, "—but as far as your feelings were concerned I usually never troubled myself. I see that this has been my downfall."

Behind him some feet away he heard Miroku murmur anxiously, "Hurry up, Sesshoumaru. I don't have a good feeling about this."

Abiding by his wishes, Sesshoumaru continued hurriedly, the urgency not yet apparent in his voice. Yes, Naraku would soon be upon them as well. He could feel it in his bones. Smell it in the air…

"Now I know that you believed me to have killed your old lover. Is this not true?" He questioned, disinterest dripping off his words.

"I don't deny it—because you did kill her," Inuyasha shrugged moodily, "And sure—," he glanced at Miroku, both apprehensive and mocking, "I did say something along the lines that I wouldn't ally myself with Naraku. I won't deny he is a bastard and I don't trust him with my life, but he did one thing that I had never thought possible. It has come full circle now. I have what I lost; I have Kikyou—,"

Miroku interrupted, his voice ruthless and harsh, "You know that is impossible, Inuyasha. She's dead."

Inuyasha smirked widely, "That, my dear friend, is where you are wrong. He has brought her back to life and she awaits my return. All that remains is to kill you, Sesshoumaru. You have no idea how long I have waited for this day."

Inwardly, Sesshoumaru paled. Naraku's power spread much further than had had imagined. He could bring back people from beyond the grave? No, surely this was not possible. There had to be some way the bastard had gotten around this—some power, not his own, that he was drawing upon.

Opening his mouth to retort to Inuyasha's last lusty remarks he was interrupted by a voice coming from edge of the forest, not some ten meters away, planted in the sea of leafy green.

"Quite right."

No. Not now. Not _yet_, damn it.

"Oh, Naraku, it's you," Inuyasha remarked, almost indolently, but fear was evident in the dim recesses of his words. He seemed an unwanted member to everyone; but no one had enough gumption to say.

"I do hope you will forgive me," Naraku sighed dreadfully, putting his hand to his cheek and a false troubled expression appearing on his features. He was in his usual array of purple; shade after shade of purples. Deep, dark, light, bright and muted. Tying the display of colors together in a cohesive and singular movement were the flashes of black and silver that flowed like an ocean or river across the cloth.

"Why?" Inuyasha inquired, though it sounded somewhat like a demand.

"Because," Naraku purred in his silky way, "I am about to take your dream away from you."

And in that he leapt high into the air, almost gravity-defying by the pure weight of his clothes, and withdrew from the dark and heavily layered depths of his garments a long and most lethal looking sword. It shone burgundy though its blade was bright silver. The dark lord was upon the youkai almost instantly, his eyes alive with fire and the most toxic venom.

Miroku was glad that, although in pain, he still kept his wits about him and weakly he tossed Sesshoumaru's sword the small distance and watched as the youkai unsheathe it in less than a blink of an eye.

Thunder and lightning crackled on the horizon. And for a moment the figures standing amongst the black and grey landscape were but paper cutouts—two dimensional and moving with the quality of dolls. The eye of the storm was moving closer. The winds picked up about the onlookers, Inuyasha but one of them, his teeth bared and his eyes as tumultuous as the raging skies above. What the devil did Naraku think he was doing? Did he not particularly express that he wished to kill his brother? And, although Inuyasha had been more than prepared to turn Sesshoumaru into a meat, he had been mildly interested in what his half brother had found so 'important' to say, what his brother had been willing and eager to die for. But now it was lost: and Inuyasha would not even allow regret to seep into his body.

But all he could do now was watch and wait until the battle was over. This battle, at least.

The attack came as unpredicted as Sesshoumaru's affections towards Kagome—but there it was. Naraku had crossed blades with him, and for the first time in his life Sesshoumaru had not a clue of who would win this battle. It was a battle of will—not of strength or skill, but survival.

Naraku's sinister eyes were looking down into his own and spitting in his face, Sesshoumaru managed to choke out, "You bastard."

The dark lord seemed unmoved by his statement and increased the pressure causing Sesshoumaru to slide back in the gravel, loosing his footing somewhat. Naraku increasing the pressure ten fold, continued to grin and mock him, his thick lips curling into a smirk as he whispered through the soggy scene, "You knew that I was a bastard when you decided to be my ally. It made no difference to you at the time."

Calling upon on any strength he still possessed Sesshoumaru swung his great sword with all his might causing the clash to cease and the two to be thrown some feet away from one another. The two stood breathing heavily, Sesshoumaru's chest heaving—Naraku looking as though he had just taken a hot bath, each glaring at one another in varying shades of hatred.

"Now it is different."

Sesshoumaru spoke this last phrase and his eyes flickered to Inuyasha's half forgotten frame, his expression growing even more troubled.

"Do you see now, Inuyasha?" He spat across the expanse of grey and white, his breath hoarse and ragged, "Naraku and I were allies against you—and now, look how he betrays me."

Naraku chuckled absently to himself, wiping the droplets that had formed on his red-tinged blade with a long silvery cloth, "That isn't the issue here, Sesshoumaru. Whether or not I am your or Inuyasha's ally isn't the matter—," he paused, looking the epitome of relaxation for a split second. Yet just as unexpectedly, he dashed towards Sesshoumaru who blocked his blow by a fraction of a second, "—for soon both of you will be dead!"

The game was on. The round had begun.

Naraku advanced, his sword pressing against Sesshoumaru's own, high screeching tones of metal filling the atmosphere. But in-between the crashes and bashes the Lord of the Western Lands struggled to remain in control. He had to win this battle—but more so, simultaneously he had to make his brother understand.

"I didn't kill your wench," he sputtered, dodging the sharp pointed tip by a few centimeters and redoubling, hoping to catch the lord off-guard, "It was Naraku. It was his plan. I'm sure of it."

Obviously the attacker did not take a liking to the turn the conversation was going and took the opportunity to release a particularly painful kick in Sesshoumaru's gut.

"You see—?" Sesshoumaru gasped for breath, clutching his abdomen with one hand, "We are just pawns in his game."

Just black and white pieces in his game of Go. He created this universe and has set us out to capture and destroy and…

It was with the expression of utter hatred that Naraku delivered his final blow as he stood towering over Sesshoumaru's bent from. The attack was more painful than Sesshoumaru could ever have imagined. It was not caused by the sword, or metal piercing through his tender flesh—no, nothing so kind. No, it was an attack of the darkest kind—one that only a powerful youkai could call upon—that of sorcery. The dark lord's eyes became only slits of black and his lips moved rapidly, too fast to comprehend the meaning—

—Sesshoumaru collapsed in a shuddering groan, his body shaking abnormally, and his eyes rolled up into the back of his head. He was now but a tortured insect with no hope of escape.

The rain became heavier, drowning out Sesshoumaru's gasps for breath and covering his blue tinged skin in torrents of water that failed to cool his overheated brow.

"What your dear brother forgot to mention is that while you presumed your wife to be under the care of this—," he motioned to Miroku with an idle sigh, "—trusted person of yours, she was in actuality participating in a liaison between this decrepit figure flopping about like a fish."

This was an idea that had never struck the hanyou lord, but Inuyasha was still put off by the words his brother had spoken and the actions that Naraku had partaken in. It seemed impossible that his half-brother could open his heart to anyone, human or youkai alike. But was it that Sesshoumaru actually cared for Kagome—or was it revenge pure and simple against him? He paled. H-Had Kagome become taken advantage of?

If Inuyasha had anything in his stomach he felt as though he vomited it out then and there.

Still, Naraku was the slime of the earth and anything that spewed forth from the monstrosity's mouth had to be taken with a grain of salt. Turning to his most trusted companion, he whispered, "Is this true, Miroku?"

The advisor could not find the words to speak. He did not doubt for a second that Kagome and Sesshoumaru had an affair—but had Sesshoumaru taken advantage of the girl? Had they actually…? He could not say. Miroku did not want to believe it was so and somehow, against all hope, he knew that Sesshoumaru's intentions had always been pure. It had just been the unfortunate mistake that the girl had been married, to none other than his despised brother.

Both Naraku and Inuyasha took Miroku's silence as an affirmative to the question.

Had there been any pity in Inuyasha's heart as he watched his plagued brother be tormented by the wayside it quickly dissolved like his silent tears that trickled down his face. The tears that trickled, and mingled, and ebbed and flowed down his face.

"How could you…," Inuyasha spat quietly, his voice rumbling like the overhead thunder. "How could you?! I didn't think even you could sink so low…"

Miroku's eyes, dilated in emotion flashed from Inuyasha's anguished form to Sesshoumaru's crumpled figure in the mud; the youkai's golden eyes staring out unseeingly into the grey. No, the youkai was not dead. Perhaps far from those twilight realms…but he was hanging on to the cliff of reality and imagination, conscious and unconsciousness. It was now Miroku's turn to enter the scene.

How could he not? Although Inuyasha was his best friend there were larger, greater, more magnificent things hanging on that cliff that Sesshoumaru now found himself upon.

"Inuyasha," he croaked, truly finding his voice for the first time, "I understand your hatred. Believe me, I understand…but listen," he licked his lips, blinking back the rain that was soaking his dry cotton-filled mouth, "Listen and understand. Right now this isn't about your hatred for your brother. You can deal with that later. Remember, you have the sword that you can use to your advantage. But listen. Please listen. You know, I know you do, that Naraku is just controlling us all. That is what this whole episode has been—these wars."

Miroku took a short breath that helped to stabilize him, even if the anger in Inuyasha's eyes knocked the wind from the mouth, "I give you my word that Sesshoumaru did not kill Kikyou all those years ago. Yes, the person who killed Kikyou may have looked like Sesshoumaru…but why would Sesshoumaru kill her? What would he have to gain? It would just bring him further apart from the sword that he wanted."

He was beginning to sound frantic now. And Miroku, casting a wary glance towards Naraku noticed that the being's lips had begun to curl in anger. He had to speak quickly, rapidly, or soon he would be a crumpled heap on the ground like Sesshoumaru.

"It just doesn't make sense—how could it have been Sesshoumaru? When he was in Edo at the time? But Naraku, Naraku makes sense! What would he have to gain from it? Well, he was planning ahead, you see. He knew what would be happening at this very instant. He planned this all. To make you and Sesshoumaru greater enemies than you once were—to wreck war upon the land, to become each of your ally's, secretly plotting against one another to—,"

But no words came from Miroku's mouth, and almost instantly he fell to the ground, his breathing heavy and labored.

Naraku just picked at his nails, not even sparing his victim a glance.

"What did you do to him!?" fumed Inuyasha, facing towards his calm companion who was resting against the trunk of an accommodating tree, "What did you do!?"

"I? I hardly did anything. The poor bloke was half mad, couldn't you see? Or am I the only one with common sense nowadays? Didn't you see his wound? My dear boy, the thing was at least a day or two old and was green about the edges. The rot must have gone to his system, and, no doubt to his mind. It was just unfortunate that you actually took your former companion's words to heart, very unfortunate indeed."

The hanyou lord blinked. What? His eyes flashed to Miroku's fallen body, his chest facing the sky. It was true. Miroku had suffered a wound, and although it did look serious or so inflamed as to have poisoned the man's body and mind.

A slight wash of fear began to trickle through Inuyasha's veins.

His brother had been cast down so easily. His stupid half-brother had not even resisted the attack—or hardly at all. What was the devil was he trying to prove? That Sesshoumaru was indeed a pawn? Or had Inuyasha's assumptions on his brother's strength always been grossly overestimated? He did not know.

He didn't know anything anymore.

Inuyasha had come to this temple of his youth with such hopes and ambitions to finally put the precedent where it belonged—in the past. He had come to revenge a death that had long remained in limbo. He had come to put an end to this war.

And now like grass in the wind, Inuyasha was beginning to bend.

The question remained; whose will was he bowing to? Sesshoumaru's? Naraku's?

The hanyou lord stepped forward, his bare feet scarred and red after having walked up the main gravel-filled pathway that led to the shrine's tori. His cloak was the same color as that greeting gate, and even at that moment passing under it's depths he felt guilt; the guilt that blood was to be shed. At that moment in time he had presumed it would be his abominable brother that would lie as he did so now, in the ground; with eyes unseeing.

But now…now…

"Stop," a cold harsh voice commanded from the direction where Miroku now lay, mirroring the form of his fallen brother, "You cannot do this Inuyasha. You know you cannot."

Naraku, some odd feet away from the tortured form of the hanyou scoffed, "What do you know of what Inuyasha can or cannot do?"

The woman, brushing away her hair that had fallen before her face, spat, "I know nothing of what Inuyasha will or will not do. But if he is to do it, let him do it of his own free will—without you involved."

Chuckling, Naraku quipped, "I? Involved? I do not know of that which you are alluding to. I am merely Inuyasha's ally in war—,"

"—as you were to Sesshoumaru! And look at him now! You have destroyed him!" She continued, biting her lips, pity surfacing to her eye as she looked at the fallen youkai.

"I have not destroyed the youkai. Do not loose faith in the monster so quickly. You of all people would know, Kaede sister of Kikyou, that monsters are not so easily defeated." Naraku shifted his eyes to Sesshoumaru's fallen figure, mud splattered, and soaked through with the continual water. The confounded rain, "This youkai still lives. He is just biding his time."

Inuyasha, having listened to the conversation in awe, blinked, "You…," he pointed towards Kaede, groggily, as though half in a trance, "I remember you. You and your husband came to visit me and said—,"

"—it matters not who she is. She is worthless in this war—," Naraku cut in lustily, his eyes dark and dangerous. Inuyasha did not see the daggers, but the person facing opposite him saw them glimmer in the grey light.

"—you know I am not worthless. You know what I can do, Naraku, that is why you fear me…," Kaede seethed angrily, bringing forth her bow and quickly stringing an arrow onto the taught string, "Do not tempt me, Naraku. I have waited and planned for this day."

"Well, you did a very poor job of that it seems," Naraku chuckled half-heartedly, his tone sarcastic and scathing. His plump lips formed the words with such cruelty that even the quick-tongued miko could think of no response, but instead stared at the dark lord in utter hatred, her stance taut and ominous.

"There has been enough time wasted, Inuyasha. Strike, cut him down. You may think that he has been destroyed by the likes of me—but Sesshoumaru is stronger than what you may believe and what it may appear. Take the chance. I dare you."

And with those words that Naraku spoke, there was nothing else that needed to be said. Any apprehensions that Inuyasha might have harbored in his heart, any fears, any doubts, they fell away from him now. Even the rained seemed repelled from him. For, if there were any regrets that still lived—they did not exist now. They had disappeared with all reason. They had flown to another world—a world of hope and merriment; a world that seemed to have eluded him for some time.

Inuyasha's grip on Tetsusaiga tightened. He would wield his father's sword now, against the object he had been waiting to kill for so long. He stepped forward, one foot after another. And no one stopped him. It seemed too surreal. Naraku only watched. Miroku could say nothing, for unlike his brother, he truly was unconscious—as for Kaede there was nothing she could do. Even a blessed arrow would not stop the likes of him.

His lips turned down into a greedy lustful sneer and raising the great sword, almost feather light above his head, he crashed down. He was the storm.

Sssssssshwingg….

It hissed like a viper, a snake. This was indeed the ultimate attack he had waited so long to tame. And now, what better reason did he need than to strike down the thing who had been the cause of all his sorrow, the loss of all his hopes, of all his dreams.

_Kaze__ ni mukatte tsuba suru…_

To split against the wind. He could feel it in soul now, that somewhere, somehow, this revenge would torture him for the rest of his life. But there was nothing left. There was no other type of hope. His life, the past eighteen years, were for this one moment. How many nights had he sworn to do this? How many times had he promised to bathe himself in his brother's blood?

He could not go against it now…even if fate was wrenching his head and his heart in the opposite direction.

And the blade fell onto his brother…his brother…As the old saying went; there are instances when an arrow will stick into a rock; such was the force of Inuyasha' determination.

And down crashed the blade.

…The next thing Inuyasha became conscious of was a deep dull pain in his back. He opened his eyes blearily. It took him a moment to situate himself when he had he noticed with some confusion that he was twenty, or perhaps thirty, feet from where he had been formerly standing not a moment ago.

Gingerly, he climbed slowly to his feet, swearing slightly at the pain he felt on his rear side. From the looks of it he had slammed into a very old, very ancient tree that had not accommodated itself to his presence in a way the hanyou would have hoped. To put it succinctly, he had slammed into the tree by…by the force of something.

Blinking towards where Sesshoumaru had formerly lay, he found that he could hardly see through the thick fog—but wait, was this fog? It did not have the texture of the cloud. No, it seemed like dust, or perhaps smoke. Yes, that was what it was. Smoke.

He coughed slightly, realizing he had been taking large drafts of the air. Yet still, he peered into the miasma, resting atop the hilt of his sword. What had happened?

The hanyou lord heard coughing off to the side, so, he figured, he must have not been the only one to survive this. It seemed that Kaede had survived as well, but what had happened?

"You under estimate me…," a deep, scratchy whisperer announced through the smoke entrails.

It was a voice Inuyasha could have recognized in his grave, that of his half-brother, Sesshoumaru.

B-but how!? How!? Inuyasha swore angrily. How could he have fought off my attack? He was sprawled in the dirt half dead! How the—

"It is a rare instance," The voice continued, almost softly, almost tenderly, "That the piece of shit could be right."

"What do you mean!?" Inuyasha snarled out. He could not find the direction or location from whence the voice was emitting. It seemed all around him now, constantly shifting, circling, like a falcon above him.

"I am not as weak as you surmise my dear half brother. Although, I will not deny that the bastard did some damage." The deep tone continued, almost mocking.

The world spun around Inuyasha. Grey, wet, rain, misty trees, the gravel, fog, smoke—but from the world that he was now lost in where had his brother dashed to? But, more importantly, where had Naraku escaped to?

Inuyasha's blood went cold. Had Naraku abandoned him to the likes of his half-deranged kin?

"Where are you!?" The mad hanyou called in bitter anger, flailing his sword about, almost childishly.

"I am…," the voice whispered, causing the hairs on the back of Inuyasha's neck to stand on end, "Right behind you."

Inuyasha was aware of that physical sensation again, that same dull pain in his back. But, he also became aware of a sharp piercing that was encircling his neck growing more profound with every passing moment. It was a nearly impossible to open his eyelids, but open his eyelids he did.

"You fool," The figure before him whispered, the golden eyes glinting in malice, "You are but a fool to think I could be struck down so easily…"

Inuyasha struggled, kicked, gasped for breath, but no avail. There was but the rain and smoke and the clenching hand about his throat draining his life. Inuyasha lost the grip on Tetsusaiga and heard it fall to the ground in muted slosh.

And as quickly as that, Inuyasha was defeated—his will, still burning with anger and hatred was no match for the supreme power that his brother possessed. It seemed utterly impossible that his brother could be so strong…and just with one hand holding him down against the jagged bark of the tree that cut into his back, perhaps sharp enough to draw blood.

Had he had breath to cry out in pain there would have been no doubt that Inuyasha would have been screaming with a strength that traveled above the rim of the forest. For not only was it the tree and the pressure against his neck, but there was something else, a burning sensation on his half-brother's hands, that seared into his skin; the hand was white hot.

Suddenly, quite suddenly, there was a dull muted pulsating sound, almost as though it was spinning through the air—an object, moving fast…and Inuyasha, through half pealed eyes, saw with some fear a large metal object hurtling towards his brother. He did not cry out—for if this blade stabbed Sesshoumaru his pain would finally be over and he would be rid of the bastard brother once and for all.

Sesshoumaru seemed unaware, his golden eyes glowing in lust and revenge, a carnal smile spilling over onto his thin lips…

But there was something wrong; Inuyasha noticed in the back of his mind, right before the blade came slamming into his brother's back. Something just didn't seem right with his brother. His eyes were…

It was too late, and his brother let out a wrenching scream—yet not so tortured as it ought to have been. It almost sounded a stage cry of pain—as though it was not that excruciating. Almost instantly Inuyasha was let hold out of his degraded brother's grasp.

He coughed in a fit of pain; not daring to touch his neck for it still throbbed with the pulse of his brother. He stumbled forward, slightly, his legs feeling quite weak beneath his weight as though he could not support himself, as though his brother had been sucking the very energy out of him.

Inuyasha turned and watched Sesshoumaru collapse to one knee, through smoke, not two feet away from him. The blade, upon slicing his brother's back had emitted a large fountain of blood that spluttered out of the gash in his back like a geyser that was to eventually subside to a steady flow. It bathed half of Inuyasha's body in a purplish color.

The hanyou lord stared down at his bloodied clothes and blinked. The blood…the blood was purple…

He could not fit any more thoughts together, for even those themselves were interrupted by another voice emitting out of the fog, very much like Sesshoumaru had done not a few minutes before.

"How very foolish of you," the voice rasped, steadily, although slowly approaching, "How could you be so blind…" it continued.

The sounds of footsteps against the gravel could be heard. The cough of Kaede in the background; still lost in the reign of terror that this mysterious smog produced. And still, the steps grew ever near. There were muffled steps. Slow steps. Uneven steps. As though he who walked (for Inuyasha had determined it was a he by the tone in his voice) was suffering from a great injury, for the steps were that of a person who limped.

"You lost him now…," the voice continued, not but ten feet away, "You could have had him kill me…I would have been out of the way. You realize that now, don't you Naraku?"

Naraku? Inuyasha thought dimly, finding his mouth parched and heated. Where is he?

Through the damnable smog—which had appeared so suddenly, it appeared, stealthily, like a cat through the underbrush.

"Yes…," a deep voice, one Inuyasha had come to know too well over the course of the past months. It was a deep and cunning voice, filled with conflicting currents, both deep and shallow; beneath and above the surface, "I have been known to be greedy. But it seemed quite reasonable at the time…"

Inuyasha slowly turned his head and peered into the haze that was, finally, beginning to dissipate. What he had presumed to see, sprawled against the tree in a pile of blood, was not what greeted his eyes. Nay, there was no fallen figure of his brother. There was no Sesshoumaru. Instead, it was Naraku, gingerly lifting himself from the gravel and brushing off his plum-colored robes as though he had just awoken from a nap out in a sun-filled meadow. There was no wound. There was no blood. There was no Sesshoumaru.

No…Sesshoumaru…Inuyasha thought dimly.

No, far from it indeed.

The sound of heels against gravel alerted his attention to the figure behind him, which now, emerging from the fog, turned out to be his wounded brother, dripping in his own blood with the same fervor of the rain above, limping very badly; but his eyes remained resilient. His eyes still remained strong and furious—furious, Inuyasha noted, not towards him, but towards the purple clad figure not twenty feet away.

"You are the fool, Naraku." Sesshoumaru breathed heavily, his voice scratchy and his tone labored. He took his breath in great large gulps, wincing every time he managed to form words. "You know you have revealed your underside…to Inuyasha…,"

The hanyou lord, blinked up at his brother, his face grim and resolved against the creature that had guided him towards the brink of death not a moment before. Naraku had been right about one thing—his brother was indeed stronger than he initially believed. And as Inuyasha stared at him he noticed, perhaps for the first time, that Sesshoumaru was behaving naturally towards Inuyasha's own existence. For the first time, in Sesshoumaru's point of view, he wasn't a thing to be overlooked or cast aside like a toy one had grown out of.

Inuyasha existed. And although this brought little solace to the relationship that had been as rocky as the slope of Fuji-san since his birth, Inuyasha began to feel a creeping sense of doom and despair.

It was beginning to seem, much against his will, that his brother, in the end, once again, as always had proven him correct.

Yet Inuyasha could not be sure. Not quite yet.

Finding his voice, he questioned roughly, not towards Naraku, but towards the slumped figure that was now making its way to a fallen log to lean against, "What do you mean, Sesshoumaru?"

"This is how he did it." The silver haired youkai answered simply, his long blood stained fingers gently brushing against the brilliantly green moss that was growing on the fallen tree.

Sesshoumaru sank into that green, closing his eyes, trying to steady his irregular breathing and his agitated nerves.

_Soon_, he thought, _soon this will all be over._

What all of 'this' was he didn't know. If this was his life, if this was the war, if this was Naraku—he couldn't say. But something, something needed to happen damn it. Even if he died, even if that was his fate. It needed to happen soon. This limbo was as torturous as the slow coming of the sun on an anticipated sunrise. To have had to wait all night—to watch the stars and the clouds align just so…and to wait for the main character in the scene.

The main character was not yet upon them. But soon, Sesshoumaru hoped, soon.

What Sesshoumaru did not know was that in this play there was not just one main character but two.

Blearily, Sesshoumaru stared at his half-brother, covered in Naraku's throne of violet blood—as purple and dark as the clothes he wore now. So dark it could easily be mistaken for black in the correct lighting.

"Did what?" his brother questioned angrily, confusedly.

_Why can't the boy just fit the pieces together? They are right there in front of him, waiting, and staring at him idiotically like he is looking at me now. Why do I have to be patient when I am dying?_

"What do you think?" Sesshoumaru seethed, grasping at a wound on his shoulder that had just erupted, most likely, Sesshoumaru surmised, from the power of Naraku who was staring at him, mostly angrily, from across the expanse. It was not an attack to kill. Naraku was toying with Sesshoumaru, for even Naraku was biding his time…waiting…waiting…

"That was how he killed Kikyou." Sesshoumaru finally decided upon simply, leaving the rest, or what most he could, up to his brother's imagination, "Naraku has the power to take other people's forms. I was wondering—," he paused, gasping for a breath, "—Wondering how Naraku pulled it off so many years ago. But now I know. He did exactly what you saw there…"

And that was it.

"What…?" Inuyasha whispered hollowly, still not moving from his position on the ground: a place he seemed to have become rooted to. His golden eyes were a swarm of emotions—misunderstanding, regret, fear, and finally, finally, it rested upon hatred.

As frantic as fish in a net.

If Inuyasha was to do anything, if Inuyasha would have found his sword and drawn it upon Naraku—it was never to be known. For it was in that instance that Naraku, still standing coolly by the tree, in a trail of plum robes rose in a sweep of motion to a large branch of a pine tree some twenty feet up in the air. The two, looking at him with looks of scorn and incredulity said nothing. For each subliminally knew that it was now time for Naraku's explanation of it all…an explanation that was long overdue in the eyes of the world.

The dark lord, from high in his perch in the tree, grinned broadly, as though some lively music took place in the background and he could not help but smile.

"Yes, I have been known for greed and lust, haven't I Sesshoumaru?" he quipped arranging himself most comfortably above the needles, his long robes hanging beneath him, seemingly deflecting the water from high above, and glinting even in the grey light that seemed so stationary and unchanging as though it was time itself, "You saw it with your own eyes in the cellar of your incampment."

Sesshoumaru's eyes narrowed.

"Yes, I was so close to your precious Kagome…And now," Naraku chuckled dryly, "All we have to do is wait…"

"Wait for what?!" Inuyasha called down from the forest floor, finally rising to his feet, his hands curled into balls of anger.

"For her to appear. She will come eventually, and then at that moment all but one piece will be assembled. But then again, that can be taken care of with no great deal whatsoever."

"What are you talking about!?" Inuyasha snarled from below, grabbing Tetsusaiga and brandishing it threateningly, as though Naraku would be afraid. Something that Naraku decidedly wasn't. He was much too powerful to care about the mere trifles of a dead youkai's sword he had left to his son. It surprised him that such a learned and sensible youkai as Sesshoumaru would fall prey to the likes of a mere piece of metal. It was pathetic.

But in the end, weren't they all? Including him?

He. Naraku. He who had done this all for love, a concept that shouldn't exist. It shouldn't be allowed to exist, he mused annoyed, making random drawings in the air that hung in the rain in an icy-blue smoke, the same sort of vapor that he had created to corner Inuyasha. That hadn't gone as planned. It would have been easier to have Inuyasha dead before he started the day's main festivities.

Yet whether Inuyasha or Sesshoumaru was alive or not really didn't matter.

All he cared about was his glimmering jewel. His beautiful Kagome.

What did it matter if he amused the fools down below for a few seconds while they waited?

"I don't deny it," Naraku began archly, glancing down at the seething Inuyasha in amusement swimming profusely through his dark orbs, "I killed her. All those years ago. You never asked. You didn't want to believe—why? Well, it makes sense, of course. Why would you question the man—or youkai, I should say, who will help you succeed in your mission which you have planned for the past eighteen years? Why suspect your right hand when it is your left hand you are watching like a hawk? And believe me, I didn't mind going unnoticed. It made things quite easier on me."

The rain continued to fall harder—as though with each increasing drop the truth was crashing down upon Inuyasha who had been too blind to see. The rain was blinding him, the truth had blinded him, and ignorance had blinded him. So, all this time, he had been the fool. It wasn't a surprise. Inuyasha was often portrayed that way. But never—never had he been manipulated so skillfully before.

Of course, there had been fear and questioning and resentment, but never—never had Inuyasha thought Naraku was behind the whole affair. Never would he have guessed.

_That is a lie_; Inuyasha's heart whispered to himself softly, _you knew it all along…you just didn't want to believe it. To go along was just easier…and you were tired of fighting…._

So very tired…

There was nothing Inuyasha could say. The truth spoke for itself.

"And what would I have said had you asked for my advice? I would have said, 'You must strike while the wind blows in our favor, Inuyasha," he heard Naraku whisper among the droplets, "You must take your advantages at the time they present themselves. Here is your moment. Kill him now and let this war be over. Take his lands and revenge Kikyou's death! She was killed at dawn and let us finally put her honor to rest this evening!' But even if I had said such words to you, I have no doubt you would have mistaken their true meaning. You would have presumed I referred to your half brother. But there, in your ignorance were you wrong."

"Do not place yourself too high on that holy pedestal of yours, Naraku. You come from the slums of the earth, this you know," Sesshoumaru called, not bitterly, but merely stating a fact. A universal fact that for so long had gone unsaid in the whispers of time.

"I do not deny this. But life is not what you are born from—life is what you become. Through your own choices. Who would have believed that I, a son of a common prostitute, would grow to become the most feared and wealthy creature in all of Japan?"

"Yes, but you did not do so honorably. You know this, as does everyone else who has ever set sight on you and your compounds," the silver-haired youkai continued, glaring up at the youkai that was slowly killing him minute by minute.

His vision was beginning to blur. But that was of no matter. Life didn't matter, in the end. When this war was over—what would greet him but an empty house? Those blue eyes had disappeared like the blue sky overhead.

"What does it matter how I came to be? What does it matter that I managed to out-wit you and your brother in the end? If I came to reign supreme by even more underhanded means it wouldn't bother me, truly. For what is life if you don't truly live it to your best degree? In any case, I find that the person in question has entered the outer barriers of the shrine."

_What…? _Inuyasha whispered to himself, momentarily forgetting Naraku and turning to face the main gate of the shrine under which the tori glistened through the maze of trees that clung about them like a child to its mother. He could find no scent—the rain hung everything down and mixed the smells together with such a confusing precision that he could not even sense his brother's aroma, or even Miroku's smell, even though they were only a few feet away in the courtyard.

Inuyasha cast a stray eye towards his fallen friend and found, much to his relief that Kaede had moved into the protection of the shrines overhanging awning. He noticed, also thankfully, that his friend was still breathing, if not shallowly. There was so much to sort out once this whole affair was over—that was, if he was to survive it in the end, which, was beginning to seem unlikely. Naraku's plans seemed and as complex and as wide spread as a master at Go, seeing six or even ten moves ahead.

Sesshoumaru, his half brother, was in no state to leave…and Miroku seemed in as bad, if not worse shape than he. And Inuyasha, what of himself? Once this mysterious 'character' arrived—would he be subjected to the same fate? Tetsusaiga obviously had no affect against the man who had had called his ally for most of the summer—and besides the sword, there was nothing else that could truly cause damage to the lord.

Naraku seemed impossible to kill. A true demon.

"Ah…," Naraku whispered. His eyes alit as though someone had struck a flame from behind their dark depths, "She has arrived…"

"She?" Inuyasha questioned, blinking, and turning to face the tori once again, squinting through the rain droplets.

"Yes…She…," The dark lord hissed in a snake-like quality, his white teeth shining in contrast to his tanned skin. His eyes were gleaming mad now, as though the fruit of the most delicious quality had finally ripened into being and he would be the first, the one, and the only to taste his harvest.

Sesshoumaru, on the other hand looked up, his labored breathing, the same question as his brother's dripping off his lips. …She…? Would it be Kagome? Hope and anger raged inside his being—there was a longing to see her again, just one last time: but never under circumstances such as these. Never when Naraku was within ten feet of her, or even ten miles or leagues…for Sesshoumaru knew that Kagome was a temptation that Naraku could not resist.

But to see her one more time…

Blinking blearily at his reflection in the temple puddles, Inuyasha heard the steps first—even though a hanyou, his ears were finely trained, if not more so than his youkai brother who was suffering from his various injuries that had now caused him to double over. Naraku, even though a youkai and one of the most powerful beings that had even lived was not so trained as to be able to discern the plops of rain with the stomp of foot against the slick dirt.

"She's here…," Inuyasha whispered, biting his lower lip hard enough to draw blood.

But who, he wondered, was she? The hanyou had a sinking feeling in his stomach that it would be Kagome—but after so long, and after the information of what had happened between her and Sesshoumaru—how could he face her, Kagome who was still his lawfully wedded wife?

The thought of Kikyou had not even entered his mind. It was as unheard of as the cherry blossoms of spring opening in such a late season as this.

And so, when the form of Kikyou appeared, dressed in traveling clothes, no less, Inuyasha was speechless.

It came as no surprise that Naraku hardly as winded as all the other members seemed to be.

The figure approaching stopped, her dark eyes wide, her lips parted. For the first time Inuyasha had ever seen, the woman he loved and cherished looked afraid, fearful, but most importantly, weak.

She moved forward, her rain wrecked figure appearing to blend in with the earthy landscape, the backdrops of ferns moving behind her.

"Inuyasha…," Kikyou breathed, moving ever closer towards his still figure, "Are you alright?"

The silver-haired hanyou, finally recovering his voice, questioned incredulously, but not angrily, "I'm fine, but what are you doing here?"

She opened her mouth to speak. To answer. To explain. To finally explain it all, the reason that she had forced herself away from safety and into the arms of this blood stained hanyou, "I—," she began.

"It doesn't matter why she is here. In the end, she would have ended up exactly where she is standing at this moment," a deep harsh voice commanded from high atop in the branches of the tree.

Naraku had not moved. In fact, if it was possible, he looked even more comfortable and content in that tree than ever: his robes falling about him as though he was blossoming from an array of silks and satins; a black rose that huddles at the edge of the forest attracting all onlookers to its dark primeval beauty.

"What do you mean? What are you saying?" Sesshoumaru spoke this time, finding that his brother, if pushed too hard, might become too brazen and brought towards the edge, as his clothes previously demonstrated.

"I thought that you, of all people, would understand my actions, Sesshoumaru. But once again, I am disappointed with you; although I'm sure we could have had our fun." The wild-haired being chuckled, absently raising his right hand and pulling out of thin air a red string that glowed faintly in the dim light of the cloud covered day. "You know I have the power for people to obey my will. It always amused me how Inuyasha never questioned how Kikyou returned to life—and even if he did, there was nothing he could do."

"There was something he could have done," Kikyou insisted, her words dripping like the scenery, with secondary meanings. Meanings that were only shared between herself and the figure seated regally in the tree.

The wind howled and lashed through the thicket.

"Yes, but he would have never done that. Especially…," Naraku paused and licked his lips deliciously, "After you consummated your love."

There was a long lengthy pause and all parties fell silent, lost in their own reverie among the transient clouds.

"Well, never mind. You are here now, Kikyou, and I am sure none of you can second guess who I will call here now. In fact, if you are as dense as that Inuyasha, not to have some sort of inkling, then you disappoint even my low standard upon you."

"You can't!" Kikyou screamed, almost in hysterics, jumping forward as though she would claw the tree down and tear out Naraku's dark deep-set eyes.

"Oh, indeed I can." Naraku sneered wildly, "Indeed I can. You know me not to be a forgiving person, and why is it that you think that now, of all times, I will change my way…?"

Kikyou rushed forward but was held back bitterly by Inuyasha with all his might, despite his weakened state after days of traveling without much food or rest. In Inuyasha's arms Kikyou spun around to face him, "Don't be foolish. He'll kill you if you do anything rash…!"

Crumpling into her lover's arms, she admitted bitterly, "He would kill me anyway."

Sesshoumaru, eyed Naraku warily. He had a very good idea of who was connected to that red string that seemed to span time and space. And, only a moment later, his suspicions were confirmed. There was a deafening crack and a sudden bright light—as though lightning had struck at their feet.

And there—sprawling against the muddied forest floor lay Kagome Higurashi.

"The time has come…," Naraku whispered, his dark eyes piercing deep into her sprawled figure.

He was right.

The final curtain was being raised. The last act to this play had begun.

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AN: Tori: a shrine gate, usually painted in a bright red.


	35. against the storm

AN: In the anime/manga the jewel is somewhere else, but I took artistic license and changed the location. Sorry for any confusion. ALSO I have completed the story and it is 36 afterward chapters long (37) so, expect the updates, hopefully soon. _Sankyuu._

**Shadows Against a Shoji Screen**

**Chapter 35**

**Against the Storm**

The wind was strong now that the rain had stopped. Earth-shaking gusts swept down the mountains in such a great force that many of the men stumbled half heartedly through the upland meadow. The grasses swayed and thrashed against the figures' feet, and even the well-worn path became nearly invisible through the swirl and froth of the muted yellow and grayed green of autumn grasses.

Despite the clouds having ceased their torment of rain momentarily, their forms were still dark and ominous and sailed across the sky. The strong northern winds from Hokkaido were pounding down upon them all with the coolness from that snow-bound area.

Kouga and his men had made good time through the rocky terrain so far, although when the rains had begun in mountainous torrents it slowed them down greatly. Yet, the fact remained that they were out of harm's way in a remote sector of the mountains that would provide them safety until they reached Sango's fortress some ten miles off the famed Seikoku road.

Nevertheless the walk was tiring and it drained them, most particularly Kagome whose breathing was labored as though something else was troubling her amidst the din. Although Kouga had inquired about her health several times and insist that she ride a horse for her own benefit on this relatively flat terrain, the lady of the court had insisted to walk on foot explaining that it stabilized her.

"I'm truly alright. I don't know what is wrong but I'm sure it will pass." She had called over to him, her words practically consumed by the wind that surrounded the men and the horses high above the earth, an eagle surveying its territory.

From their post, as they continued across the alpine meadow spotted with dying blue cornflowers, Lake Okoni could be seen covered in a thick layer of fog and mist that the lower lands provided it. The surface of the water looked flat and expressionless, even with hints of white appearing like the lilies of March upon its surface. The scene itself was as surreal and beautiful as a wood-block painting one found in the streets of Kyoto—a scene of such unexpected brilliance that it seemed to almost imprint itself against the soul: the black tumultuous clouds above, the yellowed grass, and the flat lake.

From far away everything was calm and distant; a picture one could look at and feel emotion for, but never truly accept as part of their life.

"The wind is really something," Kouga had commented to Kagome at one point in time when they had been walking side by side through the torrent of weeds that slapped painfully at their legs, causing them to grow slightly red.

"Yes, it's astounding. I've never seen weather like this." The lady had commented, although with weariness in her voice. It was obvious the girl was exhausted, both emotionally and physically. Yet still much remained to their journey, supposed Kouga, a few more chapters needed to be added to their story and his short, if not cherished, adventure with the girl.

What and why he had agreed to partake on this return journey was beyond him. He was taking Kagome back to the world of men, the world of blood and crime, protestation and rape—of unhappiness. A life she could have so easily escaped from, with his aid, no less, he had insisted he return Kagome to her shelf—where, from her reign she would deem the course and happiness of her life.

But it was of no matter allowing thoughts on this subject—it was as fleeting as the frost covered buds of an apple tree; they would bear no fruit.

It was nearly two now thought Kouga, judging by his internal clock. He had called the men to stop for lunch and some rest while they could before the rain set in again, prohibiting both feast and slumber. By the speed of the clouds and the direction of the wind, Kouga estimated another hour to two before the perpetual precipitation continued to befall them once again.

And so, the group had camped underneath a small wind-blown pine tree that provided some protection to the sudden gusts. Their attempt to start a fire was as desperate as an animal swimming against a tide, only to consume them. There was no need to fight against the tide; however, there was no need to fight against the world. Like the tree the party now huddled beneath, oftentimes it was just best to bend to the howling winds and the forces of nature.

Separating herself from the group beneath the cragged bows, Kagome excused herself under the pretense that she would go in look for dry fire-wood, a rare commodity amongst the rain engorged lands. All the men, except for Kouga, wished her off but only under the pretense she would return soon. Kagome promised this readily, although it was possible to discern the beads of sweat forming on her brow—the pain of her unusual condition had yet to dissipate.

It was an unusual sensation, not necessarily painful, Kagome noted as she placed one foot in front of the other, her head bent against the galls of wind. It did not hurt, but for some reason she sweated. It was as though her body was in two places at once or the sensation before one fainted—however she had been feeling in such a way for some time now and she had yet to collapse. And so, she conjectured to herself, there had to be other reasons related to her sickness. If anything, the fresh mountain air was doing her good and cooling her heated nerves.

Venturing towards the crest of the hill, Kagome put one foot in front of the other and climbed to the crown, her breath labored and her eyes dim and dull like sea-glass. She needed sleep and comfort—but no such thing would be granted to her at this time. One foot in front of the other she climbed, an object lost amongst the high tide of war—the end, like the crest, unbearably steep but so close.

The wind pulled, tugged, ripped at her clothes; nevertheless she persevered in her until finally she had reached the vista.

The scene was heartbreakingly beautiful and her blue eyes scanned over the horizon in astonishment. She opened her mouth, but a moment later she felt the world fall away and the next moment she was aware of a flash of colors and light and a strong sensation as though she was being tugged round the middle to some point unknown.

A second later, the crest of the hill was bare, only ornamented with the remaining cornflowers and blades of grass, wiping about in the loneliness for the girl who had once stood on their banks.

It was shock. Pure and utter shock when he saw Kagome Higurashi appear in a flash of light before him. Coiled around the girl was glowing thread, like that in legend—only not for the purpose of love, no indeed, but of that of revenge, more dangerous than any other emotion. An emotion that could bring a respectable person to the edge of his sanity and back again, playing with their mind in ways the world had not known or thought possible. And so, there, sprawled in the mud, her skin nearly translucent, her breathing heavy, did she lay.

Sesshoumaru was speechless, whether this was brought upon by his wounds that continued to grow more serious moment by moment, or for the utter amazement of not only the extension of Naraku's powers, he could not say.

From above where the rain continued to perpetually fall came a voice, a deep dark voice that embodied the epitome of evil in Sesshoumaru's mind; that of Naraku, loftily seated in his pine tree, his robes like that of the narcissus draping about him.

"The time has come," it whispered darkly, deceivingly, and knowingly.

The figure sprawled in the mud stirred and gasped for breath. Kagome had been revived and Sesshoumaru, though never a believer in the god's themselves, silently whispered a prayer that the girl had not been seriously harmed. That was, of course, not seriously harmed yet. Before this perverse play of Naraku's finished who amongst them would be standing among the wreckage and burden of war? Sesshoumaru supposed silently to himself, not many, not many indeed.

"What do you mean?" The figure of Kagome whispered from the pools of mud. She was slowly beginning to pull herself from the earth, emerging, if not dirty and soiled, alive nonetheless. Her voice was weak and rasping, like that of a person who was suffering from a severe flu and her cheeks had the coloring of a doll, rosy and unhealthy.

"I mean, dear lady, that all the pieces are in order and the time has come for this play of mine to finally draw to a close. It has grown boring and irksome, nonetheless, and I wish to finish it as quickly as possible."

Sesshoumaru eyed Kagome apprehensively; the girl had still yet to notice his presence some twenty feet away near the fallen body of Inuyasha's advisor, Miroku. The advisor, although still alive, had yet to recover from his blow from Naraku—after all, unlike himself and his half-brother, Miroku was just a common human. Perhaps, perhaps in the beginning Sesshoumaru would have proposed Kagome to be as common as a mere peasant, but it had struck the youkai lord some time ago that there was no way that Kagome could be so plain. If there was nothing special within her then what was the reason that Naraku had wished to possess her body as ardently as he had on that hazy summer day?

Sesshoumaru had a feeling that very soon he would discover.

Inuyasha spoke up now, still clutching Kikyou, who seemed to have fainted, in his arms, "What do you plan to do?"

Naraku, from high above in his perch, smirked absently and ran a finger underneath his lips, "Oh, nothing much in particular."

However it was apparent in his eyes, as apparent as the storm, as the coming of winter—apparent as the death of them all. It was unavoidable, like the sensation of pain, the formation of tears, there was nothing anyone could do against such a fiend. That was alterable, Sesshoumaru conjectured absently to himself, wishing that he hadn't been wounded so badly, someone did something about the situation. What little strength Sesshoumaru did have, he was holding onto in a greedy and stealthy manner so that when the opportunity presented itself he would be as prepared as the farmers for the rush of the spring rains.

"Then why are we here?" Kagome whispered, leaning against a tree, her voice barely audible among the crash of trees and the splatter of rain.

Naraku smirked once again, deeper this time. At length he rose and calmly stepped off the tree as though there was something solid beneath his feet. However, he crashed to the earth with such speed and force that it would have killed a normal man. Yet, landing on his feet in the flutter of purples, he paused only for a moment before looking up directly in Sesshoumaru's line of vision and grinning like the mad-man he was.

Before Sesshoumaru could understand the meaning to the expression, it was already too late. Kagome was already pinned against a tree with the red string-like substance that hung about her body like chains of old.

"I plan to get what I have searched for the past eighteen years."

For the first time since Kagome's entrance among the shrine's protective pillars, Kaede whispered from the backdrop, "Then you mean the Shikon no Tama?"

Sesshoumaru's eyebrows rose in questioning and absently he cast a worried glance towards Inuyasha who looked as disturbed as himself. The Shikon no Tama, but that was just an object of legend. Surely it could not be real. Indubitably the jewel had been a myth for all those many years? Its origin was clouded in mist as was its powers. Why would Naraku have spent so much time and energy in such a fruitless object? It made no sense whatsoever.

Then again, had anything for the past hour made any sense? It was Naraku, Sesshoumaru had to continually remind himself—nothing was as it seemed, nothing had _ever _been as it seemed, least of all the bastard who now stood before him.

Yet the Shikon no Tama…that was just a myth, surely…

What happened in the next few minutes would prove any such hope he once possessed to be horribly and utterly wrong.

As soon as the girl had come Kikyou could feel her life draining. For the past several hours she had been aware of the sensation slowly and gradually pulling at her body in a way she only dimly remembered from the heated days of summer that seemed to her a blur of emotions. Yet now, amongst the wet and wild, being held preciously by Inuyasha in strong, yet shaky arms, she knew that Naraku's plans would soon come to pass.

In truth, Kikyou had arrived too late to tell Inuyasha. She could hardly speak, even now, and her body would not move, despite her best intentions.

The truth, like the storm, was raining down upon her clay body—that soon, if a decision was not reached, she would melt into the mud beneath her. Now that there was no distance between her and this girl, Kagome, their hearts had begun the battle of control, the inevitable battle that had been foreordained from her first breath. The truth, the painful truth, that between the two girls only one could technically survive—and Kagome being the more likely of the two. Kikyou, as she knew, was just a collection of spirits and mud, fathomed together to make a person: it was only with the soul, the soul that she had been sharing with Kagome for the past months that she was allowed to survive and act the part of the human being. It has puzzled Kikyou at first why Kagome should have the stamina to live with only half a soul, but finally, somewhere in the recesses of her mind Kikyou had realized the cause. The fact was that Kagome, within her body, held the jewel of the famed Shikon no Tama, a device that could keep even the dead breathing.

And soon, when Naraku wrenched it from the dark, warm, encasings that it had been hidden for so long, she, Kikyou would fall, and, no doubt, Kagome. A choice had to be made: a painful, bitterly cruel choice.

Who would live?

Yet, Kikyou thought hurriedly, in frantic, meticulous nature—she, herself, was a still a priestess in her own right, even if she had been summoned from beyond her grave. Within her body still tingled the magic and power, faint, but evident; and with the included power of her sister, perhaps, perhaps, something could be done to help the dire situation.

But it had to be fast—deadly fast. There was no time for error, for fear. What she would do, she would do in full faith of herself and her powers and would accept any regrets that accompanied her decision.

The fact remained that she was too weak to do anything. Even with her sister's guiding presence nearby—Kagome, whether unconsciously or not, was silently battling in possession for her soul. In addition, as soon as the Shikon no Tama was wrenched from the blue-eyed girl, Kikyou knew that she would fall dead to the ground. As long as Kagome kept the jewel, as long as she continued to touch it…

It was painful enough to open her eyes, let alone look at her sister. She had to communicate her intention somehow, somehow, without words, and only looks. Priestesses may have been extraordinarily powerful, but not so great as to have the gift of telekinesis.

Kikyou blinked, her vision slowly falling into focus.

There stood her sister, Kaede. For the first time, Kikyou stared openly—realizing that this might be the last time she would ever see her grown up sibling ever again. It was amazing how time had worked away its ways upon on Kaede—the young, innocent and gangly girl had grown into herself, blossoming and maturing in ways Kikyou had not thought possible. In addition, there was strength in her form, in her features—a resilience that could stand against the slings and arrows of time. A shield, a shield that even Kikyou could not break through even if she tried with all her might.

But the eyes were the key to her sister, this she knew. In strength, emotion, and communication; the eyes were the key. And so, titling her head, ever slightly, mindful of Naraku's monologue humming distantly in her ears, she attempted to silently catch her sister's eyes. Like a fish caught in a net she would have to entrap the gaze so that there could be no mistaking her meaning.

There was no point to this action, though.

Those strong eyes were already trained upon her form.

Now, Kikyou thought darkly, came the hard part—to communicate, somehow, that the jewel must not leave the presence of Kagome. It had to be caged, just for a few moments longer, within her grasp.

Yet these thoughts were easily lost in translation amongst the wetness, and almost as soon as the hope has flared it fell to the ground and dissolved. There could be no way to communicate without words, or without moving her body. No, what would happen now and in the following would remain in the God's hand and those who should see fit to intervene.

Looking away from the painful scene, Kikyou's eyes fell dejectedly to the undulating ferns on whose boughs millions of droplets hung in peril. Like a small world they hung on the brink of heaven and hell at the same moment as she. Would the wind carry these droplets away or allow them to continue on in their humble way?

But what was this…? Kikyou thought dimly to herself, blinking away her unshed tears, what was hope when there was none in the first place?

It was ironic that as Kikyou, the former priestess, thought these thoughts, a shapeless shadowy form swiftly crouched among those same ferns, the microcosms in their own right. The figure moved, the drops fell, but to a better place than the silent limbo.

It was up to her she realized. No one else knew the bastard's plans. No one else knew what to do. There _was _no hope. It _was _up to her. She _had _to call upon the most desperate measures, something that she had never supposed she would be forced to draw upon.

Kaede cast an anxious glance over her shoulder, mentally frowning even more. Miroku was still unconscious in the rain, his open wound beginning to bleed again, so it would seem. There was nothing she could do, not at this moment.

_I can save everyone, damn it, _the young priestess thought to herself, finding emotions well up in her throat dangerously. She could only help so many people at one time.

And now that Kagome had entered, now that she was here—and now that Naraku had her right where he had wanted her from the beginning, now that everyone was assembled with no hope of winning—Kaede knew that there was no other option.

Silently, she slipped her hand and reached for her quiver—and for that one arrow: the one that never in her wildest dreams would have never contemplated her using it. Yet, as usual, her husband had been correct in the end.

Grinning ruefully to herself, Kaede listened hungrily to spiteful Naraku's words, waiting in agitation as she fingered the smooth arrow absentmindedly for the just the right moment in which to unleash the power of the both gifted and accursed arrow.

"Yes, I suppose you could say so, couldn't you?" Naraku smirked absently to himself, leaving against the trunk of the tree onto which Kagome was bound. His hands began to rove about her body as he talked and these actions did not go unnoticed by more than one party.

"Why didn't you just get it when you had the chance all those years ago?" Kaede continued, moving half her body out of Naraku's line of vision to successfully hide the presence of the arrow behind the folds in her clothes, "It would have been so easy. There was no point in the senseless killing."

The figure cloaked in purple chuckled absently, withdrawing from the pitch black depths of his garments coated in silver streaks of rain. It was a new blade, unspoiled like the burgundy sword he had formerly carried in his lust. This one was a plain silver blade that managed to surpass the former both in its shine and sharpness.

"I never liked to share my toys. I would have thought you would have figured that out by now, dear Kaede. You have, after all, made the study of me for quite some time now, have you not? I find it amusing that you, yourself, did not do more in your power to stop me throughout the years—not that you would have been able to, of course. But it would have been diverting."

"Killing the innocent has never been enjoyable, Naraku."

"Perhaps not for you. I on the other hand…"

Naraku turned away from the spectators now, an unwise thing to do for anyone—but then again, Naraku knew instinctively that no one would dare raise a sword to him. No, he was too powerful, he could kill them all if he so wished. Ah, but that would be too simple, and after all, he _had _been looking forward to this for the past eighteen years, had he not?

Stepping forward, his hands falling away from Kagome's form which, he noted, looked very appealing at the moment—he hadn't, after all, had any form of pleasure for a few days now and his patience was growing thin and his desire was mounting.

Well, he supposed, the fun would come later, after he took the jewel.

And so, sparing no time, he gingerly began to strip Kagome. It was not his intention to reveal her entire body nude to the world, although that would have been a very nice sight. It was cumbersome as well, with her hands strung in the tree with his web. No, all he wished to get at was her left leg, more specifically her lower calf.

That was where, legend said, the jewel would lie, should it ever become encased and entrapped within a human body.

And after all, Kagome _was _the reincarnation of Kikyou, was she not? Who else could it be? Their similarities in physical appearance and stature, not to mention Kikyou had perchance to die the same day that Kagome was born…yes, there was no other way to explain it. In addition, the truth had already been proven on that day—so long ago, it seemed—when Kikyou had returned to him from the grave…and the moments when he had called upon the strength of Kagome's soul to sustain Kikyou's. Any normal girl would have died, or ensured the soul remain within the body…but Kagome had the power of the Shikon no Tama to sustain what left of her soul she had.

The question, Naraku supposed idly to himself, testing the blade on a large stalk of bamboo nearby, would be the question—who would live? Well, Naraku supposed, no doubt Kagome would. Her body would reclaim her soul and she would be become one again, would she not? And what of Kikyou? She would die of course.

Yet Naraku could bring her back any time he wished. It was true. He had that power. Yet that was another story entirely, wasn't it? His plans of tomorrow would be saved for later, put on the shelf, and allowed to stew. It was today's plans that were ripe and at their peak.

A day later and this brew would be forever tasteless and spoiled.

And so, bending down in one rapid and fluid, Naraku's eyes reflecting the gleam of Kagome's pale skin in the light, he raised the blade and struck down with just enough effort to open the skin, not tear it apart.

The blood and red splattered forth, as heavy and profuse as the rain itself, covering the two figure's feat and staining them. Kagome, surprisingly made no noise but bit her lips in utter pain and the tears were lost in the wetness.

The onlookers however we shocked and stunned as Naraku, only glancing half heartedly at the sea of blood he was soon becoming drenched in, gently brought his fingers to the raw flesh and withdrew from the depths a spherical object, covered in liquid and dripping in blood.

This time a scream pierced through the glen, a scream of agony and utter pain…and a moment later, only barley conscious, Kagome fell limp against the bindings.

_Now…! _Thought Kaede to herself, stringing the arrow, only half aware that her sister had plunged to the ground in a similar state as Miroku, unconscious and barely alive, _now, you must do it now! Now! Now!_

And still, she did not release. It was not the time. There was something still yet to come, she could feel it now in the air. Yet it _had _to happen soon….it _had _to.

"Ah….," Naraku whispered in silent glee, his eyes fixated onto the object that was beginning to resonate pinkish light in his clawed hands, the coagulated blood slowly falling away from his palms into puddles. "Yes, it is just as I thought…just as I thought…"

There was a flash of movement; an arrow that pierced the fragile tissue-paper balloon world in which the people had fallen prey to.

Kaede released the arrow as well in astonishment and surprise, its path varied and full of peril as it traveled through the rain.

The projectile moved and came so suddenly that it was there and gone and its damage done before anyone had realized what had happened. Sesshoumaru had been too preoccupied to notice anyone else but Kagome; and the fact that she was gushing blood like a fountain—and even though the wound itself would heal under the gaze of gentle time, even though she was not in mortal danger, Sesshoumaru's blood curdled, so much so that he angrily unsheathed his remaining sword that had been at his side. The piece of metal was not in particularly special—a mere blade like that the men of his armies used. Nevertheless, it was always good to have a second option, especially in times of war.

Inuyasha, on the other hand, had heard the sound before he saw the great flying object in a blink of an eye. Still, it was not the actual object he saw or even heard, but the mere after affects. The sound of slicing air, the cry of pain, the splash of an object, the fall of a body, the rain, a flash of light and the arrow piercing what silence was left.

A moment later, Kagome was no more and the Shikon no Tama was no where to be found.

It surprised her, no, more so than that, it was baffling that her presence had gone unnoticed for much of the time. During the entire duration of the episode while she had been crouched amongst the swaying sea of ferns, she had gone unnoticed, undetected, and uncared for. At first, when Sesshoumaru had initially arrived he had cast a wary eye in her direction and Sango had nearly contemplated emerging forth from the bushes to greet Miroku, especially when she had noticed the limp in his walk and the pale color to his tone. He was not well, and it would be some time before she would learn the truth as to how he had received such wounds. Something held her back, however, an emotion she could not particularly describe. The two had promised to meet at the shrine of the Shikon no Tama, had they not? Yet, as she watched the action unfold she soon realized that her silent presence might be needed in the near future, that was presuming she went undetected when Naraku should arrive.

He would arrive, of course. Why else would the war and its actions pivot around this one central location? No doubt, like the mist in the night, Naraku would sneak stealthily and silently upon the suspects and begin his attack in underhanded means.

It was for this reason, no, for those reasons, that she had to wait like a protective statue found on country roads, unmoving, unblinking, and waiting for her time to come alive. She would be covered with moss and a part of the environment before it was all said and done with.

And so she waited. And she saw it all. She saw the two lord's battle—clutching a bow and arrow she had pilfered from a fallen solider closer to her breast, she attempted, however unsuccessfully, to silence her rapidly beating heart, trying to look away, hiding the tears in her eyes from even herself.

Sango saw Naraku materialize, she saw the truthful words that both the Lord Sesshoumaru and the strange miko spoke be cut from the mouth of the innocent like a pointless decapitating—and still, she waited amid the trembling ferns, biding her time. Those fleeting moments of harsh words and muted chuckled were not the time to reveal herself.

Even when Miroku fell to the ground unconscious, a scream muffled within the very depths of her soul, she did not move. The crucial moment was becoming closer and closer by the moment, she could feel it in the air, see it in the fear of the onlooker's eyes, and feel the trembling in her heart.

Yes, very soon the phase would become complete in itself. The moon would finally be ripe for the viewing, without any shadows or secrets upon its surface.

And so, with her breath in her throat, it was not but a few seconds ago that she realized that the moment itself had come. She could not quite explain how she knew this information, for the actions taking place confused even her. Yet when the blade crashed down upon the Lady Kagome and her blood splattered onto the lacy rain trodden branches that surrounded her protectively, she knew.

The time had come. There was no time like the present to rise to the challenges of fate.

So, striking the bow and arrow, an instrument she was much accustomed to from years of youkai extermination training, she pulled it taught. The target Naraku was not moving much, nearly oscillating silently as he continued his muted tirade.

She pulled back further, aiming at the hand in which a bloodied object had begun to glow. So, that _thing _there had to be the jewel, no less. The object seemed to be pulsating within the creatures refined hand was the legend after which this whole war had been based upon. How many countless lives had been slaughtered for that object? Well, that was the power of the jewel, wasn't it; the fact that the jewel and its wishes had the power over men to cause bloodshed, murder, betrayal and revenge.

_It must come to an end, _Sango whispered desperately. _It must. _

And so the arrow was released from the bow.

Its path was true. But then again, Sango was never one to tamper with fate.

As she watched its path she saw the pointed metal pierce into Naraku's outstretched hand, the body almost taunting the arrow as it blockaded the illusive pathway into destinations unknown. Sango watched as the blood shot forth from the severed member in a torrent of angry frustration. She saw the jewel fall to the ground, its red coverings falling away in the inundation of precipitation from the heavens.

The priestess had released her taut bow, and a second later a second arrow pierced the confusion. Its target turned came to be the rim of the tree onto which Kagome was bound with Naraku's idle strings. Those same strings now fell away to the ground, still emitting a light color even as they slowly sunk into the depths of the puddles.

What came next remained a mystery to one such as Sango, and everyone else beside Kagome.

Kagome was never quite sure what happened in those few strangled moments between time and space, between fate and destiny. She would never, for the rest of her days, know what happened in those seconds that followed; for they happened in almost a blink of an eye in such unconscious movements that reenacting them would be impossible.

The arrow had been the catalyst of the situation, streaming through the secluded scene in a fiery anger in such a strong shot it could have easily dismembered an animal or person. Such was the force and intensity behind that weapon. As it was, the only obstacle was Naraku's outstretched hand in which lay the most treasured and feared object; the Shikon no Tama. Needless to say the arrow cut through the flesh as though it was sailing air, leaving in its wake a rainbow of purple and blue colored blood that fell to the rain-engorged ground in great waves, which were accompanied by curdling shrieks of pain.

The arrow landed somewhere off in the distant grey-green world, to be discovered by young villagers a few days later, lodged fiercely into the trunk of a red pine tree.

Kaede, whether out of instinct, fear, or premonition, released her arrow which for some time she had been holding steady in her taught bow, only the carefully applied pressure of her fingers holding back the raging energy.

And release it she did. It flew straight towards Kagome's taut form only missing her scalp by the breadth of a sparrow. With the force of the arrow, magically blessed by priests and priestesses in their own right throughout the many years of her wandering life, it proved strong enough to break through the bonds of even the most foulest of creatures, namely Naraku.

The glowing binds fell away towards the sopping ground, and with them the figure of a mentally, and physically bruised Kagome. She landed on her knees, her hands out before her, coated in the blood of her enemy. Yet, although she was badly bruised, within her still remained a fight that could bear the battlefield and all it's ways. Her blue eyes looked up into the tortured form of Naraku, noticing mutely his discarded hand that lay several feet away.

Whatever compelled her to do it, she did not know. It was as though something within her was calling, yelling, screeching for her to take it. She needed it. She _needed _the jewel. It was what made her, it was what would bring her happiness, and it was what would end all this madness.

If there was anything she knew at that moment in time it was that the key to happiness, the key to life itself, resided in this strange object that now glowed ever so slightly off in a puddle, half submerged in murky water.

So, reaching out, against all the pain that wracked her tired body, she felt her fingers curl around the strangely cold object, and then—

"I see you have arrived at last, Kagome," a quiet voice behind her greeted with all the familiarity of a snow flake in deep summer. Everything was completely foreign. Her body still tingled slightly from a sensation she couldn't quite describe, but in the back of her mind she knew that somehow she had been pulled from that wet and wild scene amidst the thrashing ferns to a new and very foreign place indeed.

Namely, there was sun: a golden sun, with light the color of barley tea. It burnished down on her, warming her body although the air itself was cold like that of an autumn afternoon. That was the first thing she noticed about the place in which she now found herself in: the sun, the glorious sun.

"We haven't much time." The voice from behind her urged in a deathly haste, with scared undertones that she would soon learn the meanings to.

Nevertheless, she was weak, tired—and more so than that confused. Where was she? Blinking and turning her head about, still clutching the Shikon no Tama in her hands, she drunk in her surroundings: inky hills on either side, the fresh valley down gracing her feet, and the golden sun hanging like an ornament just across the horizon.

It seemed a foreign world; for so long she had known only the likes of grayness and wet. For so long there had only been the wind in her ears and not the sound of the evening nightingales that she heard now trickling in her ears.

"Where am I?" She finally managed, blinking back tears from the sun.

"You are at the temple. The time has come for us to end this entire affair." The voice explained, growing closer and it's form becoming level with her now as they stared down at the silent and calm world below. It was all an allusion of course, this peace, this world: life was nearly one transient from one point to another. Yet this was beside the point.

For the first moment in many, many days, Kagome had found peace. There was no pain. Even her exhaustion had managed to slowly trickle away, like the residue from a bad winter storm.

So, looking at last from whence the voice was coming, she questioned, "Who are you?"

The man, who had been enjoying the view of the valley spread beneath them as well, glanced towards her, hiding his fine profile and jaw line, revealing dark deep-set eyes that seemed to hold all the answers to the mysteries of the world.

"I'm Hiroyoshi, Kaede's husband."

_Kaede…wasn't she Kikyou's sister? The other miko at the shrine? Yes, that had to have been her. But how did I end up here of all places? What happened? Wasn't I just at the shrine of the—_

"I didn't expect you, at all. But now that you are here, it makes sense. The jewel has sent you to the next safest place, after its maiden shrine, of course: the shrine that holds the blood between the two sisters."

He said this all naturally as though Kagome actually knew what he was referring to, as though she knew of the role she was destined to play, as though she knew of her place among the stars.

Yet at the moment it was all a mystery one that she was desperately attempting to sort out of her own will. What was she to do? Why was she here? What was her role? She tried to demonstrate her confusion but not seem incompetent nonetheless, and inquired rather nervously, "The blood bond? But how did I manage to get here? Not a moment ago I was at the Shrine of the Shikon no Tama."

"I myself am still confused as to that as well. Yet the fact remains that you are here, and with only one purpose in mind as far as I can see."

Off in the distance there was a caw of a raven, almost a sign that soon danger would be upon Kagome again, like wolves biting at her feet there was nothing she could do but outrun the demons themselves.

"Purpose? But what can I do? Especially—," Kagome held up the jewel, almost blinding for it shone with such intensity, for the man to notice, "With this? I don't know how to use it. I am neither a shrine priestess nor anyone who has been trained in the arts."

Anxiety and uneasiness raged with her. How could she be expected to do anything? She may have had an inkling of some training of a shrine miko, but when it actually meant calling upon forces of the super natural she was as innocent as a newborn.

"That is beside the point. Even though you may not have had your powers refined through training they still exist in the raw, and we must use them. Don't think that you have crossed time and space that Naraku doesn't have control over you. He is more powerful than us all, perhaps, given the right circumstances."

"What can I do? What am I supposed to do? I don't know anything that is going on. How is it that this thing was inside me?"

"Now is not the time for those questions—they must come later once this has all been settled." His words were said with such strength, such dismal and burdened strength that they knocked what energy and adrenaline had begun to accumulate within her.

"But what can I do?" Kagome repeated, more urgently this time, more despairing, "I don't know how."

"You must use the jewel for what it was created for—the object itself is both good and evil. Only priestesses, or those with the power, can keep the jewel pure. You have to use it for its purpose." Hiroyoshi moved towards her now, his dark eyes hard and emotionless. Grabbing her arm in a firm grip, though not hard enough to startle her, he looked down at her and waited for her reply.

His eyes were hard and cold, they way Sesshoumaru's had been when she had first met him those many moons ago. And still, she could resist the strength, if anything, Sesshoumaru had made her stronger, and not so obstinate. If she should fail this task, what of the people who were relying on her? For their sakes alone she had to be sure of her task. Still, Hiroyoshi continued now, urgently, against the sands of time, blinding his eyes, "You must wish for what you most desire…even if it forsakes yourself and others, for they say that the priestess of the jewel will have the most control in extending and maintaining the positive and negative energy with which it was originally created."

"B-but I couldn't even begin to know where to start, I—," Kagome continued feebly, finding herself drowning in her own emotions that seemed to have collapsed atop her. The tears of exhaustion and resentment began to prick at her eyes.

"Kagome, you must."

There was her answer. Those three words decided her fate. Even she was not one to go against such a plea. Not when all was at stake.

Not when all was at stake.

Naraku had fallen and stumbled when the arrow struck his hand, and when that had happened the blood poured forth with such disarray that for a few moments the sky seemed to have been cast in violent purple shades. It was not natural that this amount of blood should erupt from a person, but then again, Sesshoumaru thought absently to himself as he clutched his sword, Naraku was not a person, no, none in the least.

"How foolish I have been….," Naraku whispered off-handedly, his head down turned as though the rain was slowly plastering him against the mud beneath his feet, "How very foolish."

None of the party spoke but only watched him in silence that radiated with hatred of the most utter degree, something that could and would never be seen for quite some time. Years would go by before such a hatred for one single individual would exist. Then again, this was the legacy of Naraku.

"It is of no matter in the end, I suppose. I can just as easily retrieve the jewel in the end. She can still be caught—that damnable butterfly." Naraku spat, bringing up his blooded member and rubbing his hair out of his eyes with the stump. His face turned red, a dripping angry color that seemed both as tragic and horrifying; it was indeed a monster that lay behind those eyes, a tortured angry monster that society, throughout it's rigid boundaries had created.

Sesshoumaru blinked, looking away from the creature that even caused his bloodstained heart to pang, but only the slightest. Naraku was still a thing to be despised, hated, and wished to tread upon, if only for that momentary pleasure.

When Sesshoumaru faced him again, he paled. The hand had grown back in that short amount of time. It was startling and revolting to realize that such were the lengths of Naraku's power; to the boundless ends could the thing reach. And yet, how ironic it was that a random arrow had stuck him down, if only temporarily; none the less, it completed the desired objective. Kagome had escaped, somewhere, somewhere with the Shikon no Tama.

But one option remained for one such as him; to fight. Inuyasha seemed too startled and baffled to partake in any action, and the priestess who had shot the freeing arrow that had released Kagome was not strong enough to go against one such as Naraku. No, all that remained was he, alone in such a storm. All that remained was to battle the elements with but a chipped sword in hand.

So, slowly, ever slowly, like the coming of spring or autumn, he arranged his posture and stance, and finally his grip against the tired old blade. The act may not kill Naraku, perhaps not even wound him; but time was what was needed, he could feel it shivering inside his heart, in the darkness of dawn. And give time to Kagome he would, damn it; even if the two of them had forsaken such a thing for this moment.

Yes, even if the two had forsaken such a thing.

So, with sword in hand, Sesshoumaru raced against time as much as he could be allowed. One deadly step after another, with each movement he could feel his death pressing closer upon his heart. Now was not the time for such thoughts.

There was never a time for thoughts such as those. He had to keep moving. Naraku was so near. Glinting like that jewel had but a few moments ago.

Lifting the sword high above its head, the blade so old and broken that it did not even gleam in the grey light of the day, he allowed it to crash down upon Naraku who had been previously gathering string in which to, once again, spirit away Kagome within its bounds.

Naraku saw the blade well enough and brought his hands up, no doubt with the aid of his powers he would have been able to block the blow.

Yet Sesshoumaru was not known as the killing blade for no reason.

Withdrawing it slightly the metal merely blew upon the profile of Naraku, slightly stinging at his purple garments. Sweeping it further back, a grim expression upon his face, Sesshoumaru bent in for the kill and swiftly and efficiently, with all the grace of a lightning bolt, he jammed it into the dark recesses of Naraku….

And so it was. But not quite.


	36. the whisper of autumn

Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

_Chapter 36: The Whisper of Autumn_

The battle had stopped. Finally. It seemed as though the war and the rain had been tied together by fate and for many days the skies were grey; but finally there were signs of clearing on the horizon. It was a relieving feeling, Rin thought anxiously as she stepped out into the pavilion towards the courtyard allowing the cool damp air to revive her senses.

The smell of blood and sweat greeted her nose, but she did not grimace. She had been born and raised in climates such as these and there was no need to fear or be revolted at the fact of such human trivialities. Death was inevitable; death was winter, death was spring, something that would come eventually. Despite the fact that she was in Sesshoumaru's domain, under his jurisdiction, living in his house—it was still a time of war, she had to remind herself. This fact had been reinforced as the whole fortress had gone into an uproar after the unexpected return of Lady Kagome and her band of weary travelers.

Heaving up the bucket of water and plastering a grin of determination on her face, she attempted to greet a most exhausted Shippou who had been up all night, trying to heal the visitors from both lines of the battlefield.

"Are you alright?" she greeted anxiously, placing down the bucket of water onto the muddy gravel, "You look terrible."

Shippou grinned off-handedly and rubbed a bit of dirt off his cheek and exclaimed heavily, "Well…trying to save lives will do that to you."

"But why are we helping Naraku's men?" Rin questioned urgently, noticing that the light of day was beginning to grow dimmer with the onset of late afternoon. In a few hours it would be twilight and the evening meal being served to the soldiers who still remained on guard duty. Their presence was reassuring like the katana that Rin had been sleeping with for the past several nights.

Shippou just chuckled and flushed, "I think we owe people what honor we can give them. Most of the men we captured are dying—we can at least make their death as painless as possible…in war there are few that survive, and…well…"

Rin interrupted his slight speech and rushed towards Shippou who was beginning to flail faintly in the slight breeze. This was not surprising considering that Shippou had been using the midnight oil for the past few nights—and even though, as he said, most of the men were dying, the young fox demon attempted on every possible level to ensure that they might live. For the soldiers to hang in such a dangerous position of limbo for such a long time was more unbearable than either life or death.

"You're exhausted." She exclaimed, holding him upright, "Go off to sleep right now, I shall look after the prisoners until dinner."

"Are you sure?" Shippou asked worriedly, some concern growing in his eyes. Whether they were prisoners, or half dead, they were still men, with carnal interests of the flesh.

"Yes, trust me." Rin smiled, almost in a fox like way as she revealed a small dagger she kept up the sleeve of her work kimono, "I have learned the ways of war and that of men well enough."

A flush of happiness came to the fox demon's face and he grinned ruefully, "Ah, you are indeed my smart girl." And he would have placed a kiss upon Rin's lips had it not been for the appearance of a few guards making their way into the pavilion from the main entrance, and not looking in particularly good moods at that.

Rin, detecting his nervousness gently squeezed his hand before picking up the water and hurrying across the courtyard as quickly as she could go without managing to spill the contents or slip in the mud.

Despite the fact that it was growing dark outside and war and death surrounded him like a disease, Shippou's contentment warmed him as though the escapable sun was glowing down on his heart. The clouds had lifted and there was only sunshine.

Turning away, he made his way towards his private bedroom, deciding that as soon as Sesshoumaru returned from the war, the first item on his agenda was discussing the matter of marriage with the lord, Rin's legal guardian. Although the task was daunting, for some reason the fox demon had a feeling that, in the end, things would turn out in his favor. His instincts would prove to be right. But then, a fox was rarely wrong in days such as these.

Rin, on the other hand, made her way towards the direction Shippou had just returned from into a fairly light room that, although clean and well maintained, gave off the distinct impression of sickliness. The tatami was covered in an array of human figures, some sleeping, and some leaning against the walls listlessly staring into space, while others just lay on the floors with their eyes open, unseeing.

Another servant was in the room as well, gently wiping the sweat off of one of the warrior's brow, her face knit in a mixture of worry and annoyance at her victim. She seemed overly distraught, but, Rin considered, glancing at the girl, she was particularly young and had probably never experienced such things before. Blood, wounds, death, sickness were easy for no one, especially one who had not grown up in such surroundings.

Moving towards her, she questioned, "Is anything the matter?"

The girl, perhaps three years younger than Rin, flushed and exclaimed, "I don't know what's wrong, the medicine that Shippou gave isn't working on him…and, and I—,"

Rin smiled against her will, smoothing out the front of her attire and politely interrupted, "Don't worry, I'll handle this. You have been up all day taking care of these men—you need a rest. I'll get one of the other servants to help me in a bit."

There was a long silence in the room. Obviously the girl wished to leave, but seeing as how Rin was her superior, seeing as how she was bound to duty towards the house—there was no way she could leave so easily. Her tired eyes studied the tatami mats, and meekly she protested, "No, I'm fine. I will attend to these men."

The sounds of breathing echoed in the room against the heavy screens, and Rin, scooting towards the patient in question gently insisted, "I know where your duties lie, but I am sure anyone would understand your condition given the circumstances. Go and get some food and sleep and come back when you've recovered."

The servant girl looked at her, flushed, nodded, and paused a moment longer as if struggling against herself and her duties—to remain or stay; like the seasons that clashed above, were these rains that of late summer or early autumn? A decision was yet to be made.

Moments later the girl quietly exited, only pausing at the vestibule to slip on her shoes and soon enough the dying sounds of wet steps ceased their echoing in the room. It was just Rin and the dying soldiers in the fading grey light of the storm.

Looking dimly at the water she had carried into the room, from the recesses of her kimono she withdrew a bundled package of herbs and spices, which at her leisure she added to the liquid, stirring its depths idly with her fingers, humming a light tune. The figure to whom she was seated by stirred, a slight groan escaping his chapped lips.

But when his eyes did not open immediately, Rin paid him no mind. She had seen the face of battle many a time and it was fruitless to waste energy or concern in some cases. She struck a match in the dim room and the light flared about her features, reflecting her own exhaustion. The girl was not physically tired, no, she had slept enough, but mentally she was at her wits ends. No word had been heard from Sesshoumaru—and although the battle for his domain had been successfully defended, what that of Inuyasha? What that of the other war taking place in those distant rain-drenched valleys?

The figure seated by her groaned again, and lighting the lamp so she could inspect his wounds at her leisure, she began to undue the folds in his clothes, which in time revealed a large gash across his stomach, which, somehow, despite being at least five hours old, was bleeding slightly.

"My, my, my….your body does not seem to want to close…," Rin whispered, taking some bandage and dipping it into the seasoned water. The wound itself was fairly normal for that seen in war, and in general, although deep, it would have eventually stopped bleeding if enough pressure, bandages, and herbs were applied; yet not in this man's case.

Her dark eyes flicked to the face of the man and she was startled and unearthed to find him watching her.

"How long have you been awake?" She questioned, gulping down her fears and continuing to apply a new layer of bandages to the wound.

"Long enough." Was the only response she received, the words delivered in icy coolness and disdain, "To hear you talking like an old woman."

Rin smirked absently and dipped the cloth in the water again, "I see."

There was another pause, not a tense or awkward silence, merely one that lacked words and sentiments. The breathing of the other soldiers whispered through the room, gently filling the quiet.

"There is no point," the solider whispered, propping himself slowly up onto his elbows and leaning against the wooden wall behind him, "I'm a dying man. The wound won't close."

Unlike the first time he had spoken, the man's voice was now remorseful and suddenly tired. His dark eyes stared truthfully at Rin from across the candlelight, filled with no emotion, except, perhaps, regret.

"Of course the wound will heal."

"No, it won't." The solider continued on, more bitter this time, "It isn't meant to, not now at least."

The candle's flame flickered causing the man's face to be cast into shadow and his eyes glowed red in the darkness like that of a—

"So you are a demon? Or perhaps a hanyou?" Rin realized neither taken-a-back or frightened, merely curious. Her guardian was a demon and many of the town's folk hanyou as well.

"What does it matter? My master is Naraku; we are connected and he has called upon my blood—there isn't any use in fighting it, is there? What more is there to live for? The war is over. We have lost—,"

"—But how can you be so sure? We have received no final word as to the victor—"

"—Trust me, we have lost. If not when we attacked Sesshoumaru's abode, then later. I thought and hoped that Naraku's plans might have worked out in the end, but as it seemed fate was not on our side." He moved slightly, wincing in pain, and staring down at one of his hands absently, his dark sleek hair beginning to come undone from behind his back.

"Fate favors no one."

"Or so we say. It is heartening to think other wise—to believe that some good will come out of a person's existence."

The man grinned at this comment, as though it brought him some strange pleasure and a smile appeared on his pale pink lips. For a moment a spark alit in his eyes as though he could see something that Rin could not, beyond the walls that now separated them, past the pavilion and out into the grey-green masses of rolling high hills and mountains that surrounded the two as gently as a mother's embrace.

"Yes, it would be nice to know the reason behind life."

Rin did not reply to this last comment of his but instead tucked her tiresome hair out of her face and continued to bandage the wound, which, as the stranger said, would not heal. Perhaps he had been right in what he had said—perhaps he had made a pact with Naraku. Yet, whatever the case, this did not mean that she would give up on him. War caused many terrible and confusing things, and death was but one. The man, demon, hanyou had much to live for, this Rin insisted on telling herself as she applied more and more bandages becoming frantic to stop the flow of blood.

Yet the blood would not stop and soon the soldier's breathing grew shallower. He never said anything else after those last words; he just stared at Rin, expressionless, sometimes closing his eyes, other times gazing at the flame until the light caused tears to roll down his rapidly paling cheeks.

By the time night had fallen, the man was dead, and Rin was the only witness to the event which to her was neither tragic nor outstanding. When it came to death and war one had to remain calm and cool with iciness in their heart—this was one of the few things that Sesshoumaru had taught her, one of the few she remembered. To grieve would change nothing, to love, to care, would only make the pain more acute. War was not life, and as such, there were different rules to follow. Love was not one of these.

Another servant entered a few moments after the warrior's silent and anticlimactic departure and upon seeing that the man was dead she questioned anxiously, "Should I fetch a solider to dig a grave?"

Looking up, with not a flush to a cheek or a tear in her eye, she remarked, "No, we shall give him a soldier's death."

The girl, who seemed to understand the meaning, quickly slipped out of the room, another servant replacing her in the wake to attend to the other men who had by now awoken for what dinner they could stomach in their conditions.

As she waited, Rin eyed the small collection of personal belongings that were piled by his head. Glancing through them briefly she withdrew roll of parchment with its ends slightly waterlogged—not surprising, considering the recent weather.

Gingerly, she unfurled the scroll and glanced through the writings, in hopes that she could find some form of identification so that it would go down into the formal records—the man's identity would not be lost to the workings of war, she swore. A solider did not deserve such a nameless death.

A moment later, she found—

_To General Kai Kurogane _– it read.

Looking out into the dark night Rin found that the lanterns had been alit and from across the pavilion the distinct figure of Shippou could be seen making his way towards her. A smile graced her lips, and placing the scroll with the remnants of belongings, she walked to the door to greet him, the orange lanterns reflected in her eyes.

---------------

It was a warm feeling that surrounded her now and the world seemed far away. Like the grey mists that accompanied winter in its dreary tones, she felt detached and devoid of any emotion. Kagome was a blank slate against the world, and perhaps, not even that. She was translucent, everything becoming one at this moment. The songbird's tune meant nothing, or that of the late afternoon sun shining against calmly her back; they had all disappeared to her now, all vanished, and slowly her eyesight weakened and the world grew dim, like that of twilight. It was a sensation she could not describe, nor ever be able to depict, for so otherworldly was it that she could have sworn she was in limbo: that grey plane that would stretch for eternity, with neither a heaven nor a hell, with neither the great gods nor snarling demons to keep her company.

Had it not been for the Shikon no Tama glowing before her she would have forgotten the purpose in this visit entirely. Kagome would have forgotten her purpose, forgotten the pain at which she had suffered the strife which she had forced to endure; all became trivialities, like that of the proper method to cut tofu. All regrets, fears, and angers would have dripped off her body, slowly, had it not been for the glowing jewel that glimmered before her, a forbidden piece of fruit.

Yet, remember it she did, as she gazed down into the scarlet tones that continued to emulate like a halo around the object. This stone, which now hovered between her hands, was something that had caused so much bloodshed and hatred that she trembled at its power that she now felt coursing in her bloodstream.

Kagome closed her eyes. What she was doing, she had not a clue. She had never been a priestess or trained in such fierce arts—but whatever she did at this moment, she felt as though that somewhere, in the sands of time, it had been permanently impressed upon her mind; and so when she opened her mouth to breathe, words, in a language she could not comprehend fluttered forth, like that on the wings of a butterfly.

After she spoke, if words and sound came out at all, it was hot, almost painfully so. The grey plane disappeared and there was no color whatsoever. Just light, a bright light that seemed to strip her bare of whatever clothes she had been wearing, now momentarily forgotten. This light plunged down into her soul with the sharpness of a sword that only the devil could wield.

It plunged painfully down upon her, slashing with burns and wounds, but upon opening her eyes for the briefest of moments, she found herself to be as pristine as she had once been with no torrents of blood covering her frame. But the light was too blinding, so once again, she squeezed her eyes tightly and held her breath, hoping that the jewel would find the true wish within her heart before she could bear the pain no longer.

She herself had no wish to give, nor did she dare think of one—for, as Hiroyoshi had said, the power of the Shikon no Tama was that of great evil and good simultaneously, and it was up to the will of the wielder and their buried dream to produce the outcome.

No words, she had assured, needed to be spoken, accept for those to begin the ceremony—too prove that the wielder was truly the stone's master. The power of the stone would find the wish within her, buried beneath false hopes and apprehensions—the truest form and desire which lay, silenced, in the heart. Kagome only assumed that because so much time had elapsed that the stone found her character and will in its favor, and was now…now…

There was a sharp pain to her chest where her heart lay and it seemed as though something with very clumsy hands of a child was ripping her apart. Kagome screamed. The pain stopped. There was no sound. No jewel. Just her. Just her.

Her thoughts left, and there was only the light that seemed to cut through her eyelids now and bake her throat in its heat. Yet her body could not sweat, it only continued to grow more overheated under the power of the jewel. She would not melt, but it seemed as though she grew white hot under the power which had been her duty to control. Finally, her body could take no more and the torturous light was quickly replaced with dark deep shadows, which seemed calm and cooling. Shadows which her mind and soul quickly retreated to in the growing grey mists once again.

The next time Kagome would open her eyes, the wish would have been granted. The power of the jewel would be one that would grow into myth, as well as that of the priestess.

The rain poured down upon Sesshoumaru in great mysterious torrents, the sword clenched in his hand, his will resolute against the tides of misfortune and serendipity. His fingers curled about the worn hilt, the old and aged leather slicing into his palms, leaving great red gashes on his skin. Nevertheless, with sword in hand, he rushed forward, his steps falling one after another, across the mossy expanse that separated him and the fallen figure from grace, which, inevitably, was just Naraku.

Naraku was merely a form with morality and ideals; a figure who had become polluted by greed, revenge and possession that had sunk deep into his bones with the force of the overhead rain.

With this blade, Sesshoumaru promised himself, without the power of his father's sword, or that of a master craftsman, he would strike down a person, a being, and a thing, in which he saw himself. Naraku was the darkness that lay within his heart, a darkness and hatred which his insipid youth had known in full. A creature he used to place in the rank of a demi-god, a thing that lusted for blood and nothing else could satisfy such a cold and dark heart. Such emotions he had known, and intimately at that; if such a thing as Naraku was allowed to strike victory, then what did this say for the fate of his world? What did this say for the fate of one such as him?

He, who had changed by the end these ordeals, had come to know himself oh, too well indeed. The youkai could not afford for Naraku to win, he could not allow such a crime against humanity, even in its sorry and pitiful ways. For Naraku, such a crime to exist was inexcusable and unforgivable.

With blade in hand, Sesshoumaru sprung forward from his position facing Naraku, not some ten feet away. His movements were slower than he expected, although his injury brought little pain, (though, no doubt, he thought idly, in time it would hurt a great deal more) his clothes and his body itself was waterlogged by the continual rain.

Naraku, like a stone statue of Buddha did not move. His eyes seemed glazed as he stared down at his fresh hand with a look of confusion and abhorrence, as though this new appendage was one of the most loathsome things on earth. His eyes were dark, and stormy, angry and full of hatred. He stood, awaiting the final attack, awaiting Sesshoumaru's blow as though it was not a piece of sharp, if not rusted metal, he carried in hand, but simply a feather, weightless and unimportant.

Nevertheless, Sesshoumaru sliced through the rain to the demon's side and extended his blade with the skill of a ruthless mercenary on their final killing spree, waiting the moment in which he would be covered in a shower of blood: that of his enemy. The blade retreated in an instant, caught behind the whirls of Sesshoumaru's lengthy clothing and with the artistry of the perfectionist; he quickly and silently raised the weapon above his head.

The blade glimmered. The rain fell.

Naraku, from his position, as though he was as deeply rooted into the ground as a tree, looked up, his black eyes glimmering, a smirk upon his lips. No, he would not be killed so easily, he had sworn this to himself from the beginning, when his plans had been but a gleam in his eye. No, he remembered that lavender-colored day in his past, when he and that one other person had promised to die fighting, to die, if possible, protecting one another. Even if their methods were underhanded, even if the world was turned against them, they would not allow themselves to be overtaken so easily by something as trivial as death. No, only matters of the utmost importance did Naraku care for, and death was not one of them.

He would not succumb to it.

Gathering his threads skillfully in his hands, with all his power he wrenched into the darkness, pulling with all his force. Kagome was expected to appear then, expected to fall into his arms, and it would be she, not himself, who would be killed under the blade of Sesshoumaru, her lover.

_Ah, what a just revenge, _Naraku smirked absently to himself as he gave the final tug, and waited. Waited for her to come, waiting for Kagome's beautiful, if not scared face, to greet him through the rain, waiting to hear her screams of pain, her tears, and her inevitable death to play before him like the great theatrical comedy this all was.

Yet she did not come.

The faintly glowing string fell out of his grasp, the end trailing in the dirty puddles at his feet, where it lay, motionless.

_So, it has come to this, has it? _Naraku whispered to himself softly, a song of his childhood being hummed in his head as he watched, almost disinterestedly as the metal traced along his profile and continued its journey downwards, ever downwards.

A second later he felt the revolting pain within his insides crush with sting that only Naraku could have understood. He felt the demon souls that he had devoured throughout the years seep out of his being, slowly into the ground. Great glowing globs of blood flowed forth, and with each drop that moved through his body it felt like the pain of a thousand knives being dug into his insides.

What little drifting thoughts Naraku allowed himself in the rapidly fading light were troubled and glassy like the surface of a storm-wrought lake. It did not seem possible that his life now hung about him, a curtain that would soon snuff out what remaining time he had within him. He was the dancer in the dark, he was the performer whose time had come—ah, so it would seem.

_It wasn't supposed to end like this, damn it. My end wasn't supposed to be this pitiful._

Ah, yes, his death had been inevitable as the coming as winter, but...but this was not to say it was to be an easy transition. No! He resolved he would fight to the end. He would become the annoying actor with the swan song, he would make the murderers and traitors pay for pulling the master puppeteer.

The blade slowly pulled itself out of his juicy insides, flesh and blood spilling out in its wake, but Naraku continued to remain standing, his expression calm and mocking until the end. He would remain standing until his legs gave way, he would remain living until he bleed to death—a rusty sword could not inflict so much pain. No, it was too fanciful. It was not supposed to happen this way—Naraku knew this. He had suffered a wound like this many a time before, and recovered and lived with just the flick of a nimble wrist.

Something had, very literally, gone deadly wrong.

Yet as Naraku stood standing amongst the grey, casting a look of hatred towards Sesshoumaru who now stood splattered in the purple color of his blood, realization hit him. It was not the famed youkai of the west who had caused his death, nor was it the rusty sorry-excuse for a weapon that he now lazily held in his hand. It was not any of the players that now surrounded him, their eyes filled with an emotion Naraku could not describe; one of utter disgust with the slightest tinge of pity floating about the edges.

He wished for no pity. None.

No, it was none of these people. It was not Kikyou, the love of his life, who now lay in Inuyasha's arms, her eyes cast away from his spectacle. It was not the idiotic and hot-headed hanyou who would not know love if it came and chomped off his face for dinner, nor was it the foolish and rather weak monk who now lay unconscious in the background. Had it been anyone who could have truly inflicted damage upon him, it would have been the two figures that were closest to him now; that of Sesshoumaru and Kikyou, their eyes betraying no emotions, no pity, nothing. There was nothing to spare for the likes of a dying man.

Then again, Naraku was never one to accept handouts, and even in death he would remain stoic in the end.

Even in such a pitiful death as this, one brought about by none other than Kagome Higurashi, the young girl in whom this whole episode had been precariously based upon, he would not reveal the pain that he felt. Ah, to show emotion, that was a fool's ideal—since when did emotion change the course or events of a situation as dire as this? Throughout history such dramatic actions only became annoying and obtrusive in the battlefield, one that Naraku was determined to die in.

All figures stared at him now and he realized that his legs were slowly beginning to give way from the loss of blood that had now formed in a small lake surrounding him like a floating island in an imperial garden. With the last of his strength, gritting his teeth as the pain seeped into his head, causing his vision to blur and grow even fuzzier, Naraku clenched his quivering fingers about a piece of sharp metal, its form coated in a thick layer of powder, one of his own blend. He had to choose his target carefully in the end—who had caused him the most anger and wrath throughout these escapades?

_Ah, yes. _

That could be none other than Sesshoumaru of course. Sesshoumaru who had, whether consciously or subconsciously, attempted to destroy his plans at every turn in the road, and while falling in love with Kagome had raised the stakes, this still did not place the lord of the western in any favorable light. The scum was always trying to stop him, always urged him to listen to the voice of reason—hah, if such a thing existed—yes, if anyone was going to die with him it would be Sesshoumaru, the youkai he both loved and hated.

To have such a handsome and strapping form in hell would certainly make eternity more comfortable, now wouldn't it?

His grip tightened around the metal, and summoning all remaining strength he was allowed he focused it all into the object. A second later, he flung the small knife in the direction of Sesshoumaru and was pleased to hear the decidedly poignant sound of a 'squish' as the pointed piece of metal had contact with the fragile flesh on Sesshoumaru's stomach.

"You bastard," the youkai lord whispered, keeling over and grabbing the small piece of metal out of his clothing and tossed it at Naraku's feet where the surrounding water began to turn slightly green by its presence. Nevertheless, a small trickle of blood began to stain the youkai's clothes, though no one noticed; all eyes were on Naraku, both wary of another attack, and anxious for the bastard's death.

Naraku just smirked blearily at Sesshoumaru in revenge as he felt the mud surround, the thing he would inevitably become; all by the damnable girl's will alone. _Ah, what a pitiful end_, he thought blankly as he looked up into the rain that continued to crash down on him.

Yet, as it was, his life was flickering before his eyes. Images of the past begin to drift lazily, as though encased in the swirls of incense smoke in the late summer nights: his insignificant childhood, the tears and the strife of life, war, blood, lust, revenge—but like a firefly, Kikyou's face guided the rocky and windy road into the deep darkness.

He wished, listlessly, suddenly becoming very cold, that he could have truly apologized for making her life as hellish as his afterlife was bound to. It had never been his intention—not truly at least.

As foolish and utterly senile as it sounded, a quiet life with her, passions aside, was all he would have wished. Ah…but those thoughts were for another time, another place, another moment other than now.

He didn't regret his life, Naraku realized as he lay blinking at the drops and the overhanging pine trees that seemed to block the light. He would have probably done it again, after all, who could say that a poor beggar boy, son of a common whore had grown up to scare the likes of the lord of the western and eastern lands and cause a bloody feudal war? No, Naraku thought smugly and with pride, maybe he wouldn't have changed a thing after all. Kikyou aside, his life had been one of pleasure, indulgence and power—the only way life was supposed to be lived as he saw it. And, even if he had been brought down by the likes of one annoying young girl who seemed to be on this earth just to spite him, in the end, he had gotten his revenge against her lover—the dagger being poisoned, of course.

Naraku smirked and blinked back the raindrops, or were they tears? Ah, it didn't matter, did it?

_It would have been nice to see the sun one last time, all this rain is so damnably tiresome…_

His pale fingers clenched tightly about the string that still lay wrapped in his hand. The thread moved slightly, but as the fingers uncurled with the absence of life a darkened object appeared out of midair, rolling down the mud until it was adrift in the puddle of Naraku.

This item was round, circular and grey, and would have once been referred to as the Shikon no Tama.

In death, it seemed the two were together at last.

_---------------_

The wind howled like he and his pack should have, should they been wolves. This was a good sign though. By tomorrow, or perhaps the day after, if they were lucky, the storm would be gone. The clouds and rain had overstayed their welcome by far—from the looks of it, the entire world seemed to be flooded, the rivers engorged, and the rice fields overstepping their boundaries into small rural villages. Kouga admitted that he had enough water to last him for the rest of his life in this venture—he felt as though he had been covered in water for weeks on end, which, if he thought about it rationally, he probably had. Days of being dry seemed just a memory to him, dimly alive in the back of his mind, something that seemed just as unheard of as the sun. It was really getting depressing; he thought absently, he hadn't seen the sun in so long.

_Just a peek_, he promised himself, _would be nice. Just to cheer up m'spirits a bit._

Yet he would face a thousand storms such as this if he knew where Kagome was, or just could see her face again, perhaps. Or maybe, just to know she was alive. Yes, that would be nice. To know she was alive and not being tortured somewhere by someone, namely, Naraku. The wind and its gales meant nothing to him, here in the grey alpine meadow; if only he could know that she was somewhere safe, somewhere out of danger.

Kouga scowled and plopped himself onto a nearby rock as he crossed his arms moodily. Things had finally been going his way, he justified, glaring out onto the lake that the meadow overlooked—he had been able to get away from the damnable war, and actually make some progress with his relationship with Kagome, and was making good movement through the particularly cumbersome mountain passes.

_At least she had come to respect me more,_ he thought idly, looking up into the great grey clouds that were scuttling overhead like the movements of a sea crab. It reminded him of the time he had spent in Fukui-ken, on their small rocky beaches, eating kelp and roasting small crabs that he and his men had found in the shallows.

Ah, those had been the days.

Summer and its buttercup painted days had melted away and quite suddenly he had landed himself in winter. Or, closer to winter at least. It wasn't autumn yet, or maybe it was; he hadn't seen a persimmon tree to tell if the fruit was ripe, but it wouldn't surprise him if those golden ornaments had ripened into pumpkin orange. Even in this place, thoughts of his childhood filtered back in his mind—the hazy days of autumn, playing in the long dead grasses, climbing the fruit trees and shaking its branches for the ripe treasures, wandering up into the hills and gathering wild chestnuts…

And here he was, freezing, high in the mountains, looking for a girl that quite frankly, he knew he wouldn't find. Kagome had disappeared like the sparrow she was, the blue-eyed sparrow. She had not run away—for tracking her down would have been fairly easy, what, considering that it had stopped raining and he would be able to sniff down her scent. No, there was no aroma of her anywhere to be found, except for that leading up to this bluff he was seated upon. It was as though one of the great crab clouds had scooped her up for their own merry making. Perhaps it was Susanowo or maybe the thunder god Ajisuki Takahikone, himself.

But what did it matter, she was gone; spirited away.

Rubbing behind his ears idly, Kouga sighed deeply. What was he to do now? It had been his duty to take her to safety—and now he had failed. Guilt hung upon his head like the droplets of water from that hung from the tree above his head.

One fell onto the back of his neck and he yelped in surprise and agitation.

"Boss?" One of his men called from behind him, his voice barely audible in the strong breeze that seemed to cause a tsunami of mountain grasses to cut as his feet.

Kouga turned round and surmised his troop wearily. Although he already knew the answer, he questioned loudly over the wind, "Any sign of her?"

The men shook their heads, almost as depressed as he by these turn of events. It had been enjoyable to have a woman with them—in a way, it had been nice, causing the band not to fight and truly work together. It felt odd without her now; though Kouga would be the last one to admit it, even if he felt it most acutely.

"Well," he sighed, hoisting himself off the gleaming surface of the boulder and running his hands through his hair that was still damp from the last light shower, "Nothing we can do. I have a feeling things have gone out of our hands. Someone has taken Kagome, and I'm pretty sure she is a long way off by now."

The men murmured their agreement, and stomping through the grass which had the current of the ocean, he attempted to make his way towards the group that hung around the edges of the meadow like a ring of wind-blown trees.

"Might as well head back home, hm?" He suggested, attempting to fulfill his 'leader of the pack' position to the best of his ability. It was his duty to ensure that the group did not loose heart. He was the leader and as such, it was his duty, "Nothing more we can do here. I have a feeling our part in this has ended."

A great crack of thunder and the spark of lightening in the distance some ten miles off, and this almost seemed to seal his last statement. Yes, their role in the play was over.

Too bad, thought Kouga absently, gathering their provisions, he had quite enjoyed himself. Quite enjoyed himself indeed.

---------------

The light was pale, soft and comforting. It had a slightly hazy quality to it, as though early morning mist had yet to dissipate and somewhere in the distance a fire had been kindled with its blurry smoke winding blearily into the icy coldness of dawn. The sky was a pearly white, hinted on the edges with the blue of the night before and the stars that had gone unseen by the world; the stars that would remain the same for thousands of years to come. The clouds had vanished and there were only miles upon miles of unbroken pastels, gently painted with the utmost of care unto the world, as though with each brush stroke the intent of the cosmic painter had been fortified with unquestionable wisdom.

In the east the faint orangey glow, the color of pumpkins, persimmons, and goldfish hinged on the horizon behind the hills, now black and paper cut-outs against the silence. It was hushed, everything was so still. There were no birds, or even rustles in the bushes.

Just pure and utter quiet. One could hear dawn crack to life and the sun slowly slipping across the sky curved canvas overhead. The whisper of the world as it moved among the cosmos.

And Kagome had awoken to such peace.

The worn shoji screens, thrown open despite the cold, seemed to beckon her to the world which lay beyond the tatami divided realm in which she had been born and raised. They beckoned her, with voices of the innocent, and that of the promise that only her eyes would see the dawn of such a day; a dawn of such innocence, peace, and tranquility.

The girl moved her body –weary and heavy— as though young children or the dying held onto her legs and arms; this pain was the result of yesterday's events. This tenderness to her bones and joints was by her own decree for it had been she, and she alone who had chosen to wield the Shikon no Tama to whatever foreordained power. Inevitably, what her final desire had been, Kagome would never know. This was the power of the jewel, to look deep into the wielder's heart and discover and take for its own accord what it wished. It was for this reason that the jewel was so powerful; it could grant the most pure and the most wretched desires in a single instance.

Whatever the outcome had been, Kagome would never truly be certain of whatever the wish had found within her soul, she would never know. She only hoped that somehow, somehow, in the grand scale of things, it had helped. At least, Kagome thought silently to herself, looking down at her hands idly, this power would no longer be in the hands of the enemy, of Naraku.

That was perhaps the only consolation.

Yet, the last thing she could recall before the hot darkness took her, before what she had presumed to be death, was the thought, the singular wish—to be happy.

Was she allowed something so cliché? She did not know towards whom these desires had been directed. Herself? Inuyasha? Sesshoumaru? She could never truly know if her wish would be granted in the end. That, like so many other things of the war, would remain a mystery to her—hidden in the storm clouds which had been blown out to sea; to a place never returnable. She would not venture out into those tumultuous waves whose anger and desolation would swallow her whole; she did not have such strength.

Kagome gasped as the cold air met her skin—both awakening her from her grogginess and wishing her to retire to the world of warmth from which she had awoken. The blankets and charcoal heater called out to her, and turning to face the humble housing of the shrine's keeper, she stared at it, longingly, noticing the warm glow from the hearth.

But already she was beyond the gates of the shrine, stepping blindly along towards the bluff that overlooked the valley that she remembered blurrily from the day before—from the place whence she had arrived. The soil was still wet with the recent storm, yet already fresh soft blades of grass had begun to sprout in the storm's turbulent path. The life had begun its cycle so quickly after death.

The sky began to glow the color of fireflies on summer's day, a yellow that brought with it the arrival of the great orb, the sun, that shown down warmly upon her figure. She was alone, surrounded by the great inky pines and the rice fields down below. A slight breeze ruffled her tussled hair and caused her chapped lips to burn slightly, but it was of no matter. Kagome smiled. It was over. Everything was over.

A sob escaped her throat. A cry of happiness as she blinked back tears that she could and would not hide; these tears were that of joy, not of pain. Gently, her sob morphed into a light laugh and she smiled up into the sky, watching as a silent bird flew overhead in the fluid mist.

Her blue eyes fell upon the horizon, and softly she whispered to no one but herself in the silence.

The first sparrow of dawn chirped in the camphor trees and from the shrine keeper's residence, a figure moved from within, looking up from the morning's duties, a thankful grin upon his lips.

What would happen next did not matter. What tomorrow would bring did not occupy his mind, nor doubt hers. Their role in these events had ended, Hiroyoshi thought softly to himself, looking up at the persimmon tree and its boughs hanging heavy with fruits. Autumn had come at last.

And with autumn came the world's freedom from those days of war, of blood, and of tears.

Only a few more drops needed to be shed, those of hers and hers alone.

---------------

The call of a sparrow roused him to his senses. The playful sounds of dawn, of first awakenings, familiar and both strangely foreign to his ears pulled him out of his dark and deep slumber. He was slow to awake, the world shifting and coming to existence, slowly, slowly, and in stacked layers at that.

Nevertheless, the song was the first thing he had become aware of in the dim light.

The next sound was that of breathing; not heavy breathing, but deep and rhythmic—the breath of sleep surrounded him. He had been confused at first, wondering why other people were in his private chamber. Surely he had not asked for someone to stay—

At these thoughts, he had opened his eyes. Not frantically. No, Sesshoumaru was never frantic. Or, if he was, it was only under the most desperate and dangerous of circumstances.

With his eyes open thoughts, colors, sights and sounds suddenly overwhelmed him; like a young child at a festival everything seemed strangely new and foreign, too vibrant, too sudden, too brilliant.

He winced. When he tried to move it hurt as though a knife was prickling his entire body with sharp blades. Sesshoumaru could neither describe the pain nor voice his discomfort; he seemed entirely unable to do anything at the moment. His defenses were down against his will.

Yet what had happened, he thought desperately, trying to the best of his ability to sit upright and lean against a wall, which was thankfully nearby. Why did he feel so utterly wretched?

He closed his eyes and hid from the world, the breathing and the chirps dispersed as he tried to remember, as he tried to capture those events which seemed as flighty as a water-skimmer in the deeps.

Naraku…yes, Naraku had died in the end, hadn't he? He had to have died, for it did not make sense that he should be surrounded by so many people—not if the war was still in full swing. Not if men still lived and died in the battlefield should he, or his brother, asleep in the corner, be here in the confines of…of this place. It did not seem possible should the bastard still be alive.

The rain echoed in his ears, thundering down upon him as he tried to grasp at the smoke before his face. Naraku was dead. No more. This fact in itself was amazing. Dimly, he remembered the priestess Kaede burning the bastard's body…yes, the warmth; he had remembered the warmth of those flames. The sparks that flew heavenward—that tried to reach the plateau of the gods, but the rain had dispersed such hopes in the end and the ashes had fallen. The priestess had then sealed those grey ashes within the hollow shell of some stone, some strange stone that had appeared, glowing grey and white.

That had been the Shikon no Tama, Sesshoumaru realized now. The Shikon no Tama, no longer glowing pink and scarlet, full of power that he could not even begin to comprehend. Yes, that jewel was as mysterious as the workings of life, the purpose to life, the meaning of his existence.

Things were such a blur though; it seemed difficult to remember for some reason.

Sesshoumaru winced and opened his eyes, peering blearily down at his stomach, forgetting those sleeping figures that surrounded him now. Bandages bounded the entire region for some odd reason—their application neat and thorough. The wound he had suffered from Naraku's blade had been minor. Yes, they had caused bleeding at his stomach, but he had obtained similar such marks in the past—and they had never required so many bandages. In past battles he had never needed such care for a mere scratch—he was, after all, a youkai.

_"The dagger must have been poisoned."_

The voice of Kaede, the priestess, rushed towards his ears, like the surf and the wave of the turbulent seas, fighting through the haze of his mind. Yes, he had collapsed, hadn't he? Yes, that was right. Just after the priestess had finished the sealing process—he had fallen. He remembered the cold mud surrounding him and the faces of all those peering down. Dare he wonder if their expression held worry or fear? He could not remember.

The darkness, the dim misty darkness had silently fallen then—but in the fading light, he remembered those words: _The dagger must have been poisoned. _

The realization came as no surprise—he had been a thorn in Naraku's side from the beginning, even if that had not been his aim initially. Yet, as time had passed, he had become rather troublesome to the bastard, hadn't he? Sesshoumaru was just acting by morals, something Naraku clearly did not value. Ah well, it was of no matter. Naraku had attempted to get his revenge at the end—a clever trick, the youkai lord admitted softly: everyone had been so preoccupied by the dying spectacle that they had hardly paid his wound mind—even he, himself, had overlooked something so trivial.

Yet…he had been close to those dangerous boundaries of life and death, had he not. Very close indeed. It was almost as though he had been pulled to safety by the guiding hands of fortune. How he was alive, he wasn't sure, yet he had a sneaking suspicion in the back of his foggy brain his life had been in the hand of the precocious priestess and his revolting half brother. Those two, had, after all, been the only ones capable of somewhat intelligent actions. All others presence had fallen by the likes of Naraku, or, perhaps by mere exhaustion.

Sesshoumaru grimaced. This meant that he owed his life to his brother and the younger priestess. To be in debt was one thing, but to be in debt to a person he hardly knew if he respected or not was another. He very much hoped that his brother had nothing to do with the whole affair and had fallen into a deep sleep, or helped his pallid advisor, Miroku.

The thought kept re-appearing in his mind, like a terrible annoying Obon-Odori song: Naraku was gone. With each lilt of the song came the chorus—he was gone, _gone. _The song was neither wailing nor rejoicing, but rhythmic as though it needed to confirm to the world, the skies, the heavens, the cosmos, that such a thing had essentially vanished. Yet how had it happened? It surely could not have been by the power of that rusted blade and his swordsmanship alone. Somehow, somehow, through reasons that Sesshoumaru could not quite comprehend, the villain had been struck down by a combination of his actions and some other alluding power…

Had this been the supremacy of the Shikon no Tama? Or, dare he conclude, of Kagome?

The thought made his mouth turn suddenly dry, an emotion that seemed impossible after these days of moisture. It was summer all over again: the zinnias and chrysanthemums sprung up in his mind's vision; the blue jay's flitting through the dusty pines trees; her body pressed against his in the rain….

Kagome.

What of Kagome? Where was she? Clearly, he observed looking around the room in icy disdain; she had not returned to the shrine of the Shikon no Tama. Life was hardly that simple, was it? No, she was nowhere to be seen. A slight fear grasped at his heart, one that he tried to cover with reasoning that he had learned with years of experience. Sesshoumaru was the master of reasons, of logic; it was his pride. In his youth he had been a master of the blade; and now, he was the master of deception. Or so he thought. Yet he could not cover this one emotion, not when it came to this subject matter.

He closed his eyes again and tried to calm his rapid pulse that thundered in his ears like the gallop of horses through a dusty back road.

Reaching out, feeling his forehead begin to glow with heat, he slowly and smoothly opened the shoji screens that looked out onto the small garden at the plateau of the hill. The eggplant hung ripe on the vine, glistening with moisture that looked like a polished stone. A few feet beyond the hanging fruit the crest ended and there were but green grassy slopes, their gentle forms alit with the first innocent rays of the sun of a new day.

So, the storm had passed.

_How very fitting…_Sesshoumaru whispered silently to himself, looking out into the brilliant world. The clouds had vanished as well as Naraku and Kagome. The amusing aspect, the youkai thought to himself, was that he would have wished Naraku alive in an instant if it meant Kagome's safe return. He would have lived with years of rain if that meant, if that could guarantee that the girl was alive and safe. Somewhere, anywhere.

He could not explain the emotion he felt, for Sesshoumaru was never one to go into details. This was the beginning of the end—the end of the Sesshoumaru of his past, the bloodshed had finally stopped. Against his will the girl had changed him. The accursed girl had changed him—and now; she had gone astray into these brilliant wilds without him. The injustice of it all was astounding. Yet all hope was not lost. The storm had lifted, the sun had shone, and hope remained, however small the measurement. Autumn had arrived to save the world from summer's torturous heat. Yes, the world was as it should have been once more.

And somewhere, somehow, in the silence, he knew she was watching the dawn as well.

----------------------------

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AN: Obon-Odori: a type of dance with traditional music of Japan

Susanowo: a very important character in Japanese mythology, one of the first goddesses

The story is not over yet. We still have the afterward.


	37. afterward

Author's final Notes: This story is an accumulation of over three years of my life and for those who were with me from beginning to end, you have the greatest patience in the world and I have no idea how you survived the struggle. Hopefully, the last chapter was not a disappointment. This final bit only serves to conclude the work and tie up things as I see fit.

But before I begin the chapter, I would just like to talk a bit more about what this story has meant to me, and how it, surprisingly, managed to actually end (which, if you haven't noticed, most of my other stories don't seem to).

I began this story junior year of high school, and concluded the final chapters during my Christmas break during freshman year in college. During this time, I traveled to Canada, graduated high school, went to Japan, and survived my first quarter of a college 300 miles away from home. Now that I am done with this fic, I am going to be re-reading the entire thing with a fine tooth comb to try to pick out any mistakes, grammar, etc things. Yet, I couldn't be more proud of this story—grammar mistakes and all. I truly consider this my finest achievement, the greatest thing I have accomplished in my life so far. I only wish it wasn't a fanfiction so I could publish it. It has always been my baby, always in the back of my mind; I thought about it, guilty, knowing full well I should have been working on a chapter rather than doing something else. This story has seen me on lonely and happy days—it has been the result of some of my obsessions (ranging from gardening, to the movie Possession or Last of the Mohicans) as well as bits of inspiration brought on by books that I have read (Too Late for the Festival, Looking for the Lost), and things I have seen (a hot summer night in Japan with the festival lanterns and the goldfish games).

I tried to convey through this story a bit of my personal outlook, how I view the world, and how I think it ought to be viewed. These characters, although Rumiko Takahashi's, became my own, and their personalities formed through how I wished them to be portrayed. Everything you see within the "pages" of this story is a part of me. This story is me.

With those things said, I would like to make the dedication to this story reaffirmed in this final update. This story began in a point of my life when I was extremely lonely, and it was through one person, and _one_ person alone, who inspired me and my outlook on life to such great depths. She has been by my side throughout turbulent storms, although, at times, I am sure I would have wished her washed away. Yet she stayed, and for this I thank her.

This story, and everything that it holds, is for _you,_ Savina.

----------------

**Shadows Against a Shoji Screen**

Afterward

For some time the country had been utter turmoil. All through the harvest fear had remained in the eyes of the weary peasants, fear of where their allegiances should lie in the time of uncertainty: fear of the war. It seemed impossible, almost incomprehensible, that the war and all its feuds had been cast aside like a child's toy.

Then again, that was war, wasn't it? Something with the attention span of a child; as long as it was interesting, bright, diverting and it kept their attention, it was something to be treasured and adored. At least, this was the attitude taken by most of the nobility of Japan.

Yet, for the peasants, those honey-colored days were filled with mild anticipation. Silence had settled upon the land too quickly in their opinion. The lack of clash, of discussion, of harsh words was a foreign concept to a people whose lives had been based upon the feuds between the two brothers.

Inuyasha and Sesshoumaru had both faced the problem of affirming to their subject matters that the war was over—and for the long run at that. It had been determined that, unless it was utterly unavoidable—or in answer to an invasion—the two countries would not see the like of war as long as the two remained alive. Well, until, Inuyasha pointed out gingerly on their return trip to the separate domains, "Sesshoumaru did something to piss him off."

Sesshoumaru was sure that eventually he would try Inuyasha's short fuse. He didn't voice this suspicion namely for the reason that he believed Miroku would be able to handle his task as royal advisor—now that he had gained some standing and self dignity. As it would turn out, this promise of peace would be carried until the end of their days and into the hazy future.

But returning back to the present…

Inuyasha returned to his domain after spending some time at the shrine of the Shikon no Tama allowing the realties of the past and the present to sink, very heavily, into his tired and war-wrecked body. Much of the news regarding Naraku came as a surprise to his perky ears and often he demonstrated his fiery temper while cursing Naraku beyond the grave. Yes, Naraku and his presence had been damned by more than one member of the party during those first days of mild-tempered autumn.

Secretly, all members of the party admitted that Naraku was to be pitied as well, for his tale, although dark and grim, was one that demanded respect nonetheless.

Inevitably, hatred outweighed pity and admiration by a great amount.

Inuyasha, still, remained practically well-behaved at the shrine of the Shikon no Tama although prone to taking long walks in the woods, oftentimes returning slightly dazed from the entire venture—as though eighteen years had never gone by: as though Kagome and the war had never happened, as though his brother was not dwelling temporarily in the same residence.

Yes, Inuyasha chose to overlook the current events whenever he went out on his many walks. It was apparent in his step that he wished Kikyou to accompany him into the mists, however, it would take quite a long period of time before she became physically able to leave the compounds of the Shikon no Tama, and several years after that before she became fully healthy.

No one, not even herself, knew the explanation for her existence, although all had surmised the reason itself. That, of course, was Kagome and what she had chosen to wish upon the jewel. Whatever the reason, as Inuyasha liked to point out when discussing the issue with Kaede or Miroku in the evenings (after Kikyou had retired and Sesshoumaru sought solitude)—Kikyou was alive and well and with them all; so there was no need to question the reasons. The reasons why she was alive, that was. The reasons why she was even there. The reasons why she hadn't vanished beyond the grave.

They all knew the reasons why of course, as Kagome. But this has already been said.

Kagome, for the most part, went unspoken of, though her presence resided on many of the person's mind for quite some time. For one individual in particular, he felt her absence acutely, though regarding the subject he remained the most silent. Her presence was a continual fog lurking in his mind, often times nearly gone—and at others, blinding his vision.

Where the girl had gone no one knew, and although at times Sesshoumaru suspected that Kaede, the priestess, had an inkling as to her location, he said nothing, as did she. It could neither be confirmed if the girl was alive or dead—but to Inuyasha, she might as well have been rotting in a grave. Although the hanyou admitted he had married the girl and did harbor some feelings of regret, only the keenest could determine this conflict within him. Namely, it was Miroku and Kaede who realized his anguish—but this, like to so many matters, remained unspoken of.

Kikyou was alive—and while that remained, she would be the only things appearing in the lord of the eastern land's eyes from this point on.

As for Sesshoumaru, it took him a month to recover from his wounds as a result from the poison which he had suffered due to Naraku's last attempts of revenge. The wound itself had been severe due to the poison but it was of no matter—for the priestess' healing skills were great indeed and he had only been in danger for the first few days.

The rest of the time Sesshoumaru had spent slowly and carefully healing until he was fit to travel. Even Sesshoumaru, the great lord of the western lands, knew his limitations. And what was the point of rushing onward with life? What was there waiting for him at the end of the road? An empty house, filled with objects and items—no nothing more, nothing less.

So, autumn deepened into the rich amber color that it was born to be and the members of the war-torn party continued to live within the shrine's small environment, relying on the help of the villagers and that of birds of prey to relay information to elected officials. It was not until early October, when the first of the frosts had begun to appear on the ground in the early mornings, did the members of the party quietly take their leave.

As anticipated, Miroku accompanied Inuyasha and Kikyou back to his respective domain, with the unexpected of addition of Sango, who's presence had been quite welcomed once the gruesome events of the war had ended. Yes, the female youkai exterminator had been greeted joyously as soon as Naraku's death had been confirmed; she appeared out of the sea of ferns, flushed, her eyes both full of fear and astonishment. Sango spared no time with greetings but instead rushed to her fallen one's side, her lips quivering, drops falling down her face. But these were not raindrops. No, by that time, the rain had stopped. The storm had been over.

As it turned out, much to her delight, Miroku was the first one to recover from his injuries and the two had many days of peace together in the early mild days of autumn. Needless to say, these two individuals were the most cheery in the group.

When the time had come, as all felt, for them to depart to their separate domains it was an interesting moment indeed. Some members of the party, namely the females, parted with tears in their eyes—while others, particularly the men, left quietly and with few words as possible towards one another. Most defined in these cases were Inuyasha and Sesshoumaru—although Miroku had been different from the two and had assured Sesshoumaru that their territories' formalized peace agreement (that they had signed while at the shrine) would be shipped off to Edo at the soonest available notice. Miroku ensured, or threatened, as the case may be, that Sesshoumaru may now anticipate regular messages from his neighboring brother's kingdom.

As expected, Sesshoumaru had little to say about that.

And so they parted.

Inuyasha, Miroku, and Kikyou with a trail of attendants set onwards towards the eastern land's, where they met much of the cruelties of war—but braved it as best they could, with full and heavy hearts and consciousness. Kikyou made Inuyasha swear to her, in a moment of privacy while they watered their horses in a small town, that he would never again attempt to do something which caused so great a pain to so many. The hanyou, as he was, agreed heartily to this—for his own conscious, as well for the sake of his beloved.

Sesshoumaru set off towards his own land and for much of the journey was accompanied by the priestess Kaede and although neither spoke, the arrangement was not uncomfortable. The two had personalities which could accept and understand the silence. The two passed quietly from the inky foothills where the shrine was located into the deep fertile valleys that were ripe for the harvest.

Their separation was a muted event and took place at mid afternoon at a point where the road branched in two directions. They spoke few words, for there were none to give. As both saw it, their time for talking and explaining had come to an end. The events were understood, the past untangled from its mysteries, and the only thing that now lay before the two was the future. Whatever would happen, the two could not say—and although both held personal fears neither were voiced.

Yes, the time for talking had indeed ended. The tale was almost over.

As for Kaede, she returned to her respective shrine where her husband Hiroyoshi awaited her arrival with the greatest patience as he continued to care for the wounded soldiers that managed to make their way to the secluded shrine in the tops of the hills. Her arrival was a tearful one for the two; for war was something that even if prepared with the most advanced armaments, was something that could not be expected. Yet, as Hiroyoshi would later tell his wife one night, he "had not doubted her for an instance, a single instance; for if anyone could survive a war it would be her." He never explained his reasoning behind that statement until some ten years when their second child was born.

Hiroyoshi never told his wife of where Kagome had spirited away to—it had merely happened one afternoon while she was waiting for him to return home from the town at the base of the hill with the day's tofu. He had returned, all that remained was a simple hand written note explaining that she had left and not to worry. Of course, Hiroyoshi had done just that, but what more could he have done? Kagome seemed of the nature to go against reason if she believed herself right—and maybe in the end, she had been correct after all. Her presence had been rumored in many a towns for the following months although no one could confirm the legitimacy behind these stories. It was finally believed that she had died, and this tragic end seemed the most logical explanation, especially in the icy cold months of December and January when even well-off peasants were found half-frozen in their homes.

To say that Inuyasha did not search for his wife would be a lie—he sent many of his best men out on the job to recover her location, but, when March arrived and there was no word of her existence he finally sent an order for their return. How could he go against what his men—as well as that of Sesshoumaru, said? With two countries' men on the look out for one girl, raised under the hand of a feudal system—how difficult could it be? How far could she go? With no money? No livelihood?

Her death was confirmed in the first days of April when the plum blossoms had just begun to bloom at the Higurashi residence. Her mother had been taken ill, and her brother had been forced to continue the meeting with Inuyasha, demanding how this could have happened to his wife. Inuyasha was without words and could only regret his mistake in being so blind sighted. He henceforth promised to return her wedding dowry tenfold and ensure that the Higurashi family always had the protection of his country. Souta, like the smart boy that he was, did not believe a word of it, but nearly nodded and accepted the hanyou's terms. What more could be done? What more could be asked of the fool?

And so, it came to be that Kagome Higurashi was generally regarded as dead although her presence and the deeds she had accomplished rapidly grew into local legend and by the time the cherry blossoms had bloomed a monument had been created in her honor: a monument that resided on the borders between the east and western nations. This monument in years to come would become a symbol of peace, and it was for that reason that the sparrow became the figure of happiness in the surrounding country.

During that same year in May, Inuyasha was remarried and it was generally known who his wife of choice had been. This, of course, had been Kikyou. The two had only chosen to remarry so quickly after the "death" of his wife when the rumors of them living together became so unbearable that even Inuyasha became disgusted. This is not to say the two would have never married for it had always been the hanyou's intentions, however, the speed at which they were married was not something the two had predicted. Yet, be that as it may, it was a blessing in disguise, perhaps most of all for Sesshoumaru, whose story remains yet to be ended.

Yes, there are a few stories that need to be finished

It was the sun of midsummer that now shown down upon Sesshoumaru's back as he made his way towards the rear of the house towards Lake Suzuran and the pagoda that rested on the red-colored banks of the fresh-water pond, still rich and cold with the water's of snow melt.

He mumbled a greeting, or perhaps he just grunted, as he passed a servant along the way who was cultivating the gardening and appeared to be attending to some early ripening cucumbers which would, most likely, be gracing the contents of the evening meal. As he continued to inspect the grounds he noticed that the first of the flower beds were beginning to show their true colors in the warming days of June. Sesshoumaru's expression faltered ever so slightly when he saw that not only had many of the pansies gone into bloom, but the zinnias and chrysanthemums as well.

There was a slight alteration in his step, but nevertheless he continued onward towards the pagoda where the tea he had directed was set out. Yes, he could see that it was still very hot with the steam rising slightly in the air, even in the warm weather of a June day.

Sesshoumaru sighed. He was ill at ease. Why the devil had he agreed to give Rin's hand in marriage to the likes of a common fox demon? The prat was well off, to be sure—but it was all so elaborate, the marriage process, and terribly tiresome with all its rituals. The day would soon be upon him, he realized darkly, staring into the sapphire depths of the lake.

_The color of her eyes, _he mused slightly to himself as he decidedly blocked off his line of vision by shutting his own eyes for the time being and massaging his temples. He had a headache—but then he often did nowadays. He didn't get much sleep as it was…which was why he had taken to mid-afternoon herbal remedies everyday and the solitude and quiet that accompanied the lakeside pagoda.

It was of no matter, though, in the end. It was too soon for him to recover from her presence. This was the way it was supposed to be inexorably, he thought begrudgingly. This was why he hadn't fallen in love sooner, namely for the all the necessarily obligations and emotions that it brought with it. It would have been better, he often supposed, if he had seen her dead corpse in front of him instead of hoping, wishing, believing that someday she might come back. But any such thoughts were ludicrous—he was beginning to go as mad as his half brother, Inuyasha. To believe in ideals and dreams were absurd, and in the daytime he told himself such things and believed it.

It was at night when she came to haunt him though.

"Damn it all," he grumbled irritably to himself, grabbing a cup and pouring himself the tea and drinking it down as though it was sake. Honestly, he would have preferred sake to this; it might have actually helped his headache. Sesshoumaru placed down the cup which had the pattern of wheat blowing in the field etched in light watercolors.

And so, here he was, the once famed lord of the western lands, pining over a girl who was dead, and soon to be living alone on the mountaintop as he had always said he would have preferred. Yes, there had once been a time in which he would have relished such isolation, but now, now that the war had ended, now that he longer desired the sword and the obligations of his country seemed to double in length, he wished for a calming presence to relax his war-shredded nerves.

But there was none.

His hand lifted, but he paused as it reached for his breast pocket of his garments. Sesshoumaru sighed. Why was he even bothering to read the thing—he knew its contents by heart. Nevertheless it was comforting to feel the physical weight in one's hand, to feel the texture of the heavy mulberry paper, to study her writing and the brush strokes. It was amusing, he thought wryly, as he withdrew the contents from his clothes, that sometimes her stroke order of the kanji was wrong. It didn't surprise him; after all, it was she.

Bringing it out, he looked down at the sheet of paper, his expression blank, remembering for the hundredth time the first moment in which he had chanced upon the letter in his private study, underneath the chunk of amethyst he used as a paperweight. At the moment he had merely presumed it a stray scrap of parchment, but upon opening it, he knew who had been the writer of the work. At first he had believed that the letter itself was old and out of date, but upon breaking the red-wax seal he had realized that the contents of the letter itself were as unknown to him as her whereabouts at the time.

This was before she had died, however.

His golden eyes turned hard and steely as he began to read the words and the fluid characters flowing seamlessly into another. He knew the letter by heart, he had memorized its contents after a few reads, but it was of no matter.

_I'm growing old,_ he thought wearily, almost sadly, looking up into the sky filled with buttermilk clouds above, realizing that the letter's words still affected him.

But there were other matters at hand for him to be concerned with, other matters indeed.

Sighing, Sesshoumaru poured himself another cup of rapidly cooling jasmine tea, and began to grind some ink to begin the lengthy and most tiresome project of writing out a formal letter, releasing Rin to the guardianship of the fox demon Shippou. Often times he would find himself gazing blankly out into the serene surfaces of the lake and beyond to the opposite banks where the early flowers of summer had begun to bloom; yellow buttercups hidden amongst the dark blues of the cornflowers.

The compound was just as she remembered, a picture of isolation and retreat from the bustling world in the misty countryside. Here, nestled among the dark pine trees and red earth there seemed nothing else more comforting in the world but the stillness of her surroundings, only interrupted by the occasional call of a bird in flight. The beech trees that lined the road leading to the retreat had new leaves sprouting from their branches, yellowish green and fresh, and they glistened prettily in the light of the mid-afternoon. It took her a moment to remember that winter left the mountainous areas much later than that of the valleys, and even on a mild June day, the air had a nip of coolness. Yet it was an enjoyable sensation, nonetheless, it only served to invigorate her senses—which although one edge, were hardly war-wrecked or tired. No, she had taken this trip at her leisure, and had slowly, ever slowly, managed to find her way once more at the base of this hill. What were a few months of quiet traveling—when there was no purpose, point, or fear harping at her from every angle she had found herself quite content and at ease?

The inn in the nearby town had become very well known to her over the past week while she had been visiting, and it had been this morning only that she had finally decided to set out what she had meant to do for so long. That was, of course, to return to someone very precious. Someone who lived at the top of this hill. The fact that it was an ordinary Monday morning in mid-summer did not bother her in the least. What had sparked her decision to return to this abode was that she had found in the neighbor's house that the flowers lining their vegetable gardens had begun to bloom—but they were not the regular flowers, such as cornflowers or the white iris of summer—no, they were those that she had come to know very well indeed during the previous summer: these being zinnias and chrysanthemums.

She had abandoned her horse at the base of the hill, choosing to tie him to a tree with enough tether so that he could graze in the nearby meadow that was fed by a small stream. As soon as she had began that arduous walk, slowly and at her leisure, she felt the sensation of anticipation overwhelm her body.

It had been nearly a year since she had first been spirited away to this mountaintop and it brought a smile to her lips at how unhappy she had been during those initial few weeks. Ah, yes, how she had hated Sesshoumaru—never had she disliked and feared and defied anyone more so than him. It brought an ironic grin to her lips as she plucked at a blade of grass and fiddled with it absently in her hands as she continued her walk. She had presumed to hate Sesshoumaru more than Inuyasha, but as it turned out, destiny had chosen blind her in the end and show her the mistake of her ways.

Her thoughts darkened as she walked beneath the dark shadows of an overhanging red cedar tree and paused. Yes, Inuyasha…in the end he had chosen Kikyou, hadn't he? It came as no surprise, she continued to tell herself; after all she was considered dead. It had been officially reported to her family some time ago in the earlier months of spring. Her brother had been the smartest and most cunning, privately assigning some men to search for her presence in Edo and Kyoto. They hadn't found her in the end, yet she had been impressed with her sibling's persistence. She had then taken pity and privately written him a letter under a false name, for what was the point of causing grief when there was no right to be any?

The wind was cold on her neck in the shadows and she tugged her yukata about her shoulders. It was her favorite piece of clothing that she owned, which were few considering she had depended on no one for her livelihood for the past few months. This had been the first thing she had bought with her own savings, and she had chosen the design at great length, often times nearly submitting to a particularly lovely pattern. In the end, she had found the best print, in her estimation. She had found the print in a small vendor just outside of Kyoto on the outskirts of both the country and city—and this conflict was represented, she ventured to guess, in the design. The cloth itself was dyed so that it looked like watercolors, with soft shades of blue and violets. Across this wet and watery background was a metallic stream of small dots, like a great current of wind, rushing against its form. Compared to many of her former garments, its pattern was to be considered plain, yet its simplicity suited her at this moment of time.

She found her steps growing more rapid as she reached the crest of the steep hill and a giggle burst inside her throat. Yes, Kagome admitted, she had waited for this union for what felt like eternity—she had tortured herself and Sesshoumaru for too long. It had been selfish of her in the end, and she was slightly worried that the youkai would banish her from his domain for such would be his anger towards her.

Yet such was a risk she would have to risk.

The crest was reached and the gravel pavilion laid before her and beyond that the front door to his domain. Suddenly, the rice paper of the shoji screen seemed like three feet of rock, but there was no going back. She could not loose this; she would not allow herself to loose such a thing again.

There was nothing left to do but those last few steps, and without hesitation she set out.

It was true that he had been suffering from lack of sleep, yet even his own foolishness was beginning to grow weak on his own patience. He had made it to the pagoda at the edge of the lake, drank two cups of tea, grinded the ink; only to discover that he had forgotten to bring the document that Shippou had wished him to sign, back in his study, residing under his amethyst paper rest.

But it was of no matter; he had all the time in the world for such passing and trivial matters. So, not bothering to beckon for a servant to fetch him the parchment, he made his way from the rear of his grounds, following the path he had not but walked a few moments previous. Up, onto the outdoor veranda that gleamed after being arduously polished the day before, through the hall that led to the interior of the house.

As he strode through the antechamber that passed by the main dusty entry way there was the distant chime of a bell. A low, deep gong. Sesshoumaru paused and glanced towards where the light was emitting beyond the rice paper of the shoji screens beyond. But who could be calling? Sesshoumaru hesitated. It seemed very unbecoming if the master of the house should open the door like a common servant—then again, it did seem rather a waste of time to leave whoever-it-was out on the front entry way, no doubt Shippou coming for one of his daily visits, or perhaps a merchant from the town below. Yes, he could just see to the matter in a moment and then return back to his study to get the paper and…

But the decision was already made and he was walking towards the vestibule, his steps echoing ever so slightly in the small enclosed space. The bright sun of the midday came streaming in through the door that separated the house from the cold…and then, after that lay the door from whence the person was waiting behind.

Unbeknownst, he slid the wooden door and stepped into the vestibule where a variety of shoes lay quietly tucked beneath the wooden overhanging.

It was then he blinked, and stepped back ever so slightly. It was there, that scent; however distant, however changed, however altered, it greeted him for the first time in months. It was not a stale scent, no, fresh, new and alive. His senses now alert and heightened, Sesshoumaru paused, his hand outreached for the final door, his claws brushing against the wooden surface. A shadow was cast against the shoji screen.

_But it could not be her, _he thought frantically to himself. It could not be her. She was dead.

Yet the racing of his heart would not calm.

So, against hope, against love, against life, he slid open the door and found himself staring into a pair of eyes he knew, oh, very well indeed.

In the distance a bird sung sweetly in the brush.

_-owari-_


End file.
